


ain't no man righteous, no not one

by vtforpedro



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal Credence Barebone, Gangsters, M/M, Original Percival Graves is a Softie, POV Credence Barebone, Partner Betrayal, Romance, everyone's flawed 'round these parts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 67,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26017876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vtforpedro/pseuds/vtforpedro
Summary: In which Credence Barebone is raised by the gangsters who run the underbelly of Manhattan and is tasked with a job which introduces him to Percival Graves and will turn both of their lives upside down.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Comments: 53
Kudos: 56





	1. Chapter 1

Credence gets the message from a Patronus while he’s sitting in bed, reading a book, to come downstairs because there’s work for him. He watches the raven disappear from the end of his bed and sighs, in relief and resignation both.  
  
He hasn’t been given any work in a week and while that can make him feel unsettled sometimes, he’s also enjoyed spending time alone, in his apartment or in the city he knows so well. Walking among people as only one of them and not anything more. But work will always call, he knows, and he climbs out of bed and pulls on a warm coat, for the cold December evening.  
  
The speakeasy is a few floors below him, in the basement of the apartment building owned by Mister Gnarlak, who runs the speakeasy as well. Credence has lived here for so long now and while it isn’t the best, it’s his own and it’s home. Better than the two homes he had previously anyway.  
  
Credence fingers the wand in his pocket as he walks downstairs and to the door leading to the back entrance of the speakeasy. He rarely comes in the front because Gnarlak is an informant and if there happens to be an Auror in, Gnarlak prefers to keep his face unknown to them at all times. But that’s fine with Credence, he doesn’t much like the atmosphere of the bar and he doesn’t drink, because he’s seen what it does to the people in there and wants no part of it.  
  
Gnarlak is waiting for him when he pushes the door open and steps inside the backroom, which is half storage and half office, quiet, the voices in the bar distant and muffled. It’s only Gnarlak, none of his associates, and for Credence that’s always meant something bigger is going to be handed to him and him alone.  
  
The first eleven years of Credence’s life are ones he’d prefer to forget, but they’re what led him here. He was adopted at one years old by Mary Lou Barebone and raised by her until the day he turned eleven. She was a no-maj religious fanatic and beat him for _unnaturalness_ for four years before a witch had shown up at her doorstep, with a letter for him, a letter explaining he was a wizard and could go to wizarding school. It had been a few moments of joy, to know that he might not be alone with the strange things he could do. That she had nearly beaten out of him by then.  
  
And Mary Lou had put on a good front for the witch. With a smile he knew was false, with the promise of sending him when the time came that he knew was a lie, and he hadn’t been able to tell the witch the truth. Of course, he hadn’t expected the truth to be anymore than increased beatings and not being allowed to join the wizarding world.  
  
What he got instead was thrown out onto the streets, alone on his birthday, terrified, too terrified to ask anyone if they were a witch, so they might help him. He’d lived on the streets for months, wandering Manhattan and staying away from Pike Street. He’d barely survived and when Mister Gnarlak had offered him a warm place to sleep for a night, he’d accepted, because he was a goblin from the wizarding world.  
  
But Credence never went to Ilvermorny. Gnarlak sent him to live with a wizard in his employment and for six years he had, being taught how to use the wand that had chosen him, and being taught how to use people too. How to work them, manipulate them, steal from them, lead them into traps. He was good at it, he found, from the very beginning.  
  
Gnarlak says it’s his face. _Innocent and angelic,_ he always snickers, _and it gets them every time._  
  
Credence doesn’t think he looks so innocent or angelic. That he merely looks like anyone else does and that is the most disarming thing about him.  
  
Stealing and leading people into alleyways for a beating under the guise of needing help had quickly turned to stealing far more substantial things from wizarding homes and working people, working them to his advantage for information or various other things. He never killed them, he left that up to Gnarlak’s discretion, because he’d told him from the beginning he wasn’t a murderer. He could use the way he’d been used, he could manipulate the way he’d been manipulated, but he would never be able to kill.  
  
Gnarlak tells him it’s the angel in him, but he always laughs when he says it. He’s never asked Credence to harm anyone all the same.  
  
“Enjoyin’ your time off, Mister Barebone?” Gnarlak asks from his desk as Credence sits across from him.  
  
“Enjoying catching up on reading,” Credence says with a smile.  
  
“Reading,” Gnarlak says with a wrinkle of his nose. “You always did love to read.” He gestures at a file on his desk as he blows out a puff of green smoke from his cigar. “Go ahead and read that.”  
  
Credence pulls the file closer and flips it open.  
  
It’s a picture he sees first and he picks it up, raising his eyebrows as he looks at the man’s familiar face. He looks over it at Gnarlak, who only winks and gestures for him to go on.  
  
Credence sets the picture aside and sees various newspaper clippings and enough timed and addressed entries in journal pages that he realizes Gnarlak has been keeping a close eye on this man for some time. They know approximately where he lives, a feat in itself really, but they know his work routine more, they know the places he frequents while working and while on his personal time.  
  
“How long have you been trailing him?”  
  
“Took us over a year to figure out what little is in there. He’s a man that knows what he’s doing. Wouldn’t have made much of himself if he didn’t. But he’s also arrogant enough to think no one will be able to _do_ anything with the information, with enough time.”  
  
Credence frowns as he looks at the picture again. At dark eyes and dark hair, a stern expression as he talks to the press, shoulders squared and confident in whatever he’s saying.  
  
“And what is it you want to do with this information?” Credence asks as he looks at Gnarlak.  
  
“That, my boy, is where you come in,” Gnarlak says while pointing at Credence. “I want anything and everything you can squeeze from him. I want you to work him, for as long as it takes, ‘cause we’re planning somethin’ big, Mister Barebone. We need to know things about MACUSA. Who better to tell us than the Director of Magical Security himself?”  
  
Credence peers at him for a while before rifling through some of the information that’s in the file. There really isn’t much, but enough to start the job.  
  
“The people I work have never been of his… caliber before,” Credence says. “He’s only gotten where he has because he knows the tricks. He knows what to look for. I don’t think he’s a man that’s going to be easily fooled.”  
  
Gnarlak chuckles. “Maybe not,” he agrees. “But he’s never met you before, has he?” He shrugs, slow and casual. “There are rumors he’s seeing the President but I’ve heard other rumors that that’s just a front. That Director Percival Graves has a similar preference to yourself.”  
  
Credence hums. He’s long gotten used to his _preference_ for men being acceptable in the wizarding world and he’s long gotten used to that being taken advantage of by Gnarlak, but it keeps him paid, keeps him safe, keeps him satisfied, in a certain sort of way too. He’s been working men for ten years now, but nothing like this. Nothing that will last for any length of time, because a man like Director Graves will not be telling Credence anything about MACUSA anytime soon.  
  
It’ll take trust. Complete trust. And complete trust takes a long while to build and an even longer time to build with an Auror, he suspects. He’s not exactly an everyday Auror either.  
  
“What if he doesn’t bite?” Credence asks.  
  
“Oh, I think he will,” Gnarlak says with a grin. “They always bite for you, Credence.”  
  
Credence huffs a little and shrugs, because he supposes that’s true, and puts the picture back in the file. “Where am I starting?”  
  
“He frequents a fine dining establishment. Got a connection with one of the chefs, he’s got a position for you ready. Waiter. Expect it to take a while,” Gnarlak says. _“Armando’s,_ in Uptown. He’s there once a week from what we’ve gathered and the host will make sure you’re waiting his table every time.”  
  
“Okay,” Credence says. “When do I start?”  
  
“Thursday. Get used to it a bit first. He comes in on Saturday nights, almost always alone. Woo him, Mister Barebone, but make it last, huh? Make him _fond_ of you.”  
  
Credence smiles wryly. “To the best of my ability,” he says. “Anything else?”  
  
“You need to brush up on Occlumency?”  
  
“No,” Credence says after a moment of consideration. “I’m as confident in it as I’ve been for the last ten years.”  
  
“Good,” Gnarlak says. “I don’t expect him to read you too much but protect yourself when you need to. Oh, yeah, almost forgot,” he adds, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a key. He slides it across the table to Credence. “It’s a shit place in East Village, but if you need to make it look like you’ve got a place, it’s yours. Furnished already, just drop by and keep it clean.”  
  
Credence takes the key and puts it in his pocket. “Alright,” he says. “What’s the endgame for Director Graves?”  
  
“Still workin’ that out with interested parties,” Gnarlak says with a grin. “But I don’t expect him to last much longer than a year, if you do this right. Get what you can out of him and I’ll tell you when it’s enough.”  
  
Credence nods and looks down at the file in his hand. He’s never been given such a big job and it shows the trust these people have in him. He learned that making himself trustworthy was the most important thing he could do when he first met Gnarlak and his associates and he’s found an odd and dysfunctional family in it all. They’re cutthroat, of course, and they turn on each other often, but no one will ever turn on Credence.  
  
They’ve all helped raise him, teach him, and he’s their man. Has been for sixteen years now.  
  
It’s why he doesn’t feel much fear about this job. Everything he’s done so far has been leading to something bigger, something like this, and he’s confident he can do it. He’s confident he can handle it if it goes wrong too.  
  
“Payment?”  
  
“Twenty big ones.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows and nods. “Alright then,” he says and smiles when Gnarlak winks at him. _“Armando’s_ on Thursday. Do I have to wear a suit and tie?”  
  
“Bow tie and tailcoat for the waiters, Mister Barebone. Chef Felix has what you need.”  
  
“Bow tie,” Credence mutters and sighs. “Fine.” He stands and holds up the file in thanks. “I’ll check in with you when I’ve caught his attention.”  
  
“See you Saturday night then,” Gnarlak says with a laugh. “Good night, Mister Barebone. Do us all proud.”  
  
Credence waves over his shoulder and leaves the backroom. He goes back upstairs, into his apartment and walks into the bedroom. He sits on the bed and opens the file, setting Director Graves’ picture aside and beginning to read through the other information. But he finds his eyes drawn to the man’s face.  
  
He’s handsome, incredibly so, and he’s only thirty-seven. Ten years older than Credence, but there’s a youthfulness to him, despite the grey at his temples. Stress of the job, Credence imagines, with a wry smile.  
  
There’s no saying he’ll be able to break down his walls quickly, but he thinks he has a good chance of doing it all the same, if Graves is interested in men. It really might take a year, maybe longer, and Credence wonders what it’s going to be like, spending time with the same person for so long.  
  
Building attachments, faking genuine feelings, faking love, because that’s what he’s going to have to do. This isn’t a one night stand looking for one slip of the tongue, but so much more. He’ll need to be in Graves’ home, in his life, and it will involve sharing more of himself as well.  
  
They’d registered him with MACUSA when he was eleven, put in an official form of adoption and letter of homeschooling for him, covering all their bases, if Graves ever decides to look. His story is already established.  
  
Everything should be in place for this and Credence sets the file aside and lies down, picking up the picture and looking at it for a long while.  
  
This wasn’t life as he imagined it when he was told he was a wizard, and yet he likes it all the same, because he’d found a place he belongs. Found something that he’s good at, when it had been beaten into him for so long that he was only good at being a burden. He’s got the scars to prove it.  
  
Credence smiles a little. “I look forward to meeting you, Director Graves,” he says quietly. He sets the photo aside and picks up his book to resume reading.  
  
He’s got a couple nights to himself still after all.  
  
——  
  
Chef Felix supplies Credence with two different tuxedos and introduces Credence to the other employees and the manager of _Armando’s,_ who tells him he comes highly recommended, but to remember this is a place of _establishment._  
  
Felix tells him if he can smile politely, bend to the every whim of high society witches and wizards with cheerfulness, and move quickly while he does it, he’ll be fine.  
  
Credence can do all of those, but Thursday and Friday are more of a trial of his patience than he was expecting. Most people are kind enough and the people that aren’t are what he’s more familiar with, but the back and forth between the kitchen and the floor with hardly a moment to breathe is enough to make him glad he never was on a path that might make him a waiter.  
  
Magic only helps some, rules of etiquette in place for how much he can actually use, for safety and the appearance of willingness to do things himself for these people.  
  
There are a surprising amount of requests for Himalayan sea salt and Felix rolls his eyes and tells Credence it’s a new fad that’ll die down one of these days, but to give them the damn pink salt and let them ruin their food if they ask.  
  
Credence likes Felix, who has an endless stream of gossip about high wizarding society, some of which he sends to Gnarlak, Credence knows, if it’s of particular interest. He’s funny most of all and helpful. He’s only aware Credence is here for Director Graves and not much beyond that and he doesn’t pry, which makes Credence like him even more.  
  
Saturday comes quickly and after sleeping in late and thoroughly preparing himself for things that might go wrong on day one, Credence Apparates to the tall building to begin his shift. _Armando’s_ is on the top floor with excellent views of the city and he takes the lift upstairs. He changes in the restaurant, uncomfortable being outside in a tuxedo with coattails of all things, because if the people he knows see him like that, he’ll never hear the end of it.  
  
“Pure Malt,” Felix tells him as he’s waving his wand over one of the ovens to flip a few chicken thighs in a sauté pan. “Bring him a glass when you see him sit down. A double, always a double. He’s used to that from his previous waiter.”  
  
“How’d the previous waiter like him?”  
  
Felix shrugs. “Tom liked him fine. He’s polite and professional. Never rude. Even smiles occasionally, he told me, but he doesn’t talk about work. He’s brought a couple Aurors in before, but that’s rare, so don’t expect it anytime soon,” he says. “An upstanding citizen of society, is what I’ve been made to believe.”  
  
Credence smiles. “There are no upstanding citizens of society,” he says as he adjusts his bow tie.  
  
“No, there are not,” Felix laughs. “Good luck, Credence.”  
  
“Thanks, Felix,” Credence says and walks out onto the floor to begin his shift.  
  
Graves comes in at seven-thirty, so Credence only has to endure high society with a smile plastered on his face for an hour, thankfully.  
  
His real job begins when he sees the man himself walk in while he’s serving a table their entrees. He strides across the room behind the host, who leads him to what Credence knows is his usual table, and he’s dressed as well as anyone in here.  
  
A handsome black suit, his coat taken at the front, and he’s an impressive figure.  
  
Credence finishes with the table and walks to the bar to ask for a double of Pure Malt whiskey, the top shelf of whiskeys they serve, imported from Edinburgh.  
  
He’ll never understand the appeal of alcohol, especially expensive alcohol, but then he’s not an Auror with all of the stress that comes with being one.  
  
Once the bartender has handed him the drink and winked, Credence places it in the middle of a tray and walks to the table. It’s in the corner of the room, set off a little from other tables, with a good view out of the large windows and at the Manhattan skyline. Lights twinkle in skyscrapers and Credence knows it’s probably quite a sight when it snows, though it hasn’t yet the last three nights.  
  
“Good evening, sir,” Credence says when he gets to the table, picking up the glass and setting it down on a cocktail napkin as he watches Graves look down at his open menu.  
  
Graves looks up at him and his eyebrows raise, just a bit. “Good evening,” he says, his voice pleasant. Far more pleasant than on the radio. “Tom finally moved out of the city?”  
  
Credence smiles. “He did,” he says. “I’ll be taking care of you tonight. My name is Credence.”  
  
“Credence,” Graves repeats, the way people do when they recognize his name from their vocabulary but haven’t actually heard anyone named it. “It’s good to meet you, Credence.”  
  
“You as well, Director Graves,” Credence says and is glad eye contact is encouraged here, because it lets him take in Percival Graves, the man, far more than his photograph.  
  
Devastatingly handsome, Credence thinks, and there are far worse people he could have been asked to work. Attraction to him is easy, almost too easy, and from the way Graves’ gaze is lingering, he thinks he might be lucky that it’s already gone both ways.  
  
“What can I get you this evening, sir?”  
  
“Pumpkin squash soup to start, I think,” Graves says and picks up the tumbler of whiskey with a faint quirk of his lips. “Thank you.”  
  
“You’re welcome, sir,” Credence says and smiles when Graves looks at him. His eyes are intense, calculating, but there’s interest in them all the same and Credence turns, walking away with a sense of accomplishment.  
  
This might take time, but it also might be easier than he was expecting.  
  
There are plenty of shared glances and _yes, Director Graveses,_ over the course of the next two hours. When he tells Felix that Graves wants the crème brûlee cheesecake, he gapes at Credence and tells him he never bothers with dessert. That a second glass of Pure Malt is his usual final course and Credence shrugs when Felix raises his eyebrows.  
  
“Maybe he’s just in the mood,” Credence says and smiles when Felix barks with laughter, leaving the kitchen to tend to other tables.  
  
He’ll be working most nights, which is the only downside to all of this, but he’s liked most of his coworkers so far, even his manager. She’s a stern woman and seems pleased with him, beyond mentioning to try to come in with neater hair, but when he tells her his hair has a mind of its own, because he’s not about to style it until it shines, she smiles tightly and mentions her son’s hair is much the same.  
  
And he knows that it’s more attractive than greased into a part anyway.  
  
Once the cheesecake has been brûléed and drizzled with raspberry sauce and adorned with fruit, Credence takes the plate to Graves’ table and sets it in front of him.  
  
“Here you are, sir. I might have to ask if I can take one home myself tonight,” Credence says. “It looks really good.”  
  
“Haven’t had a chance to try it?” Graves asks with an amused smile. “It does look good.”  
  
“I’ve only been here a week,” Credence says. “They’re working me through the starters and entrees first, so I might have an idea what I’m talking about when someone asks me what something tastes like.”  
  
“Any favorites so far?” Graves asks and looks at Credence, his eyes still amused but the genuine smile on his face is one that Credence wonders if he’s even aware of.  
  
Anyone could be charmed by Director Graves, even himself, and Credence supposes he probably does do some charming in MACUSA. Might be as good at it as Credence himself is.  
  
Credence hums and narrows his eyes in thought. “The duck confit has probably been my favorite so far,” he says and smiles. “I tried the pumpkin squash soup first, actually.”  
  
“And?” Graves asks with a faint smirk.  
  
“Is it that obvious I hated it?” Credence asks with a laugh. “I think I didn’t expect it to be as sweet as it was.”  
  
“Don’t wear that face when you’re trying to sell it,” Graves says and chuckles when Credence grimaces. “Yes, that one.”  
  
“How should I sell it, do you think?”  
  
Graves raises his eyebrows. “How should you sell it? Let’s see… nutty with a hint of sweetness from the pumpkin and nutmeg but refreshingly light on the end from the squash. The perfect palate cleanser for an entree,” he says and narrows his eyes. “Should I stick to my day job?”  
  
“That was much better than my attempts to explain _sweet_ in a variety of different ways, actually,” Credence says and smiles when Graves chuckles. “Did you quote what Tom told you one day?”  
  
“I did not,” Graves says with a smirk. “But I have had dishes explained to me in every way imaginable for most of my life.”  
  
Credence smiles. “I’ve only been on this side of fine dining, I admit,” he says. “As good as it all looks.”  
  
Graves shrugs. “I like this as much as I like the hot dogs sold around the corner of the Woolworth Building,” he says. “Mostly I like that fine dining affords me privacy.”  
  
“Of course, sir,” Credence says and wrinkles his nose. “I imagine it does. Let me give you your privacy so you might actually enjoy your dessert.”  
  
“I didn’t mean from you, Credence,” Graves says with a smile. “But all the same, I don’t want to take you away from your other tables.”  
  
“Someone probably does need Himalayan salt,” Credence says with a grin. “Enjoy the cheesecake, Director. Would you like another whiskey after, sir?”  
  
“Not tonight,” Graves says. “But thank you, Credence.”  
  
Credence nods. “Of course, sir,” he says and walks away.  
  
Someone does need the Himalayan salt. Credence tells Felix they should just put it out on all the tables and laughs when he asks if Credence will be paying for it himself.  
  
“Mel said you were over laughing with him,” Felix says with a grin. “No one laughs with Director Graves.”  
  
Credence huffs. “Maybe these people would look at us as real people if we did laugh with them.”  
  
“Nah,” Felix says. “You are not to be seen or heard beyond serving them. Besides Graves, apparently, but he talked with Tom too.”  
  
“He must be more human than the rest of them,” Credence says and smiles. “Hard to believe, with what he does. You think he’d be worse than all of them.”  
  
“Or better,” Felix says. “I mean, imagine what he sees. What he’s been seeing for a long time. You see the underbelly of this city when you’re on the side of the law, just the same as we do, and you either come out hating everyone or understanding everyone, just the same as we do. Easier to be human when you choose to understand. Easier to do other things when you choose to understand too,” he adds more quietly and with a wink.  
  
Credence hums as he leans against the counter and nods in agreement. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “It definitely is.”  
  
His work comes from a place of understanding people, after all, and he wouldn’t be successful in it if he didn’t. If he couldn’t read them, see their motivations, understand why they are the way they are. Understanding people became a defense mechanism when he was seven years old and it’s been the same thing for him for the last twenty years.  
  
It’s been the downfall of many, Credence’s understanding of people, and as he thinks of Director Graves and his smile, the sound of his laugh, Credence knows that it will be his downfall too.  
  
——  
  
Credence tells Gnarlak how the night went when he gets home on Saturday. That Director Graves had asked how often he worked through the week and he smiles when Gnarlak laughs and says _that ol’ Barebone charm is at it again._  
  
But Graves doesn’t come in until the next Saturday night. Credence had hoped he might appear earlier, but it’s only the beginning, and he will see him every day at some point. He can feel that. That this is going to go exactly as he’s planning for it to and Director Graves, for all his accomplishments, all his achievements and talents, won’t have a clue.  
  
Credence serves him a glass of Pure Malt and asks how his evening has been going and Graves smiles and tells him _better now._ He stays longer, working through a few courses, and he’s brought some work from MACUSA with him. Credence doesn’t try to read any of the files he’s opened, that’ll come in time, merely tells him bringing work to the dinner table is usually discouraged.  
  
“I suppose this is your table,” Graves says with a smile and closes the file, setting it aside. “I wouldn’t want to be rude.”  
  
Credence laughs. “I think it would only be rude if I was sitting at my table with you,” he says and smiles genuinely. “But unfortunately I have a few to look after.”  
  
“If you ever feel like sitting at the table with me, Credence, I’d be more than glad for your company,” Graves says as he leans back in his chair with a faint smile, gazing at Credence with some sort of soft affection that’s a little overwhelming this soon.  
  
Even for Credence.  
  
“Here?” he asks and he’s joking, to give himself time to think of a proper answer.  
  
“Preferably not,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Somewhere else. Maybe somewhere you’d actually enjoy.”  
  
Credence smiles and bites his lip. He sees Graves’ eyes fall to his lips and wetting them is only partly intentional. “I have to think about it,” he says slowly. “It’s not that I don’t want to! But…”  
  
“I understand,” Graves says with a small smile. “More than you know, I understand. Let me know if you're up for it when you’re ready. I do come in most Saturdays.”  
  
“I admit I was looking forward to this one,” Credence says quietly and looks down at the table. “And I’ll be looking forward to the next one as well.”  
  
“So will I,” Graves says and he reaches out, pressing his fingers against the side of Credence’s wrist. “I think I’ll finish the night with another whiskey.”  
  
Credence smiles and looks at Graves. “Of course, sir,” he says softly and walks away.  
  
He gets the drink from the bar and brings it to Graves’ table, setting it on a fresh cocktail napkin. “Anything else, Director Graves?”  
  
Graves peers up at him, the epitome of confidence and relaxation, and he smiles, a gentle thing that makes Credence’s stomach loop. “No, thank you, Credence,” he says. “It’s been another pleasant evening. I’ll see you next Saturday.”  
  
“See you then,” Credence says with a smile. “Sir,” he adds hastily and grins when Graves chuckles, holding up his whiskey. “Good night, Director Graves.”  
  
“Good night, Credence.”  
  
Credence works through most of the next week, getting quicker and anticipating what guests will want so he stays out of their hair, for everyone’s sake, and he hears from his manager three times that he’s been praised for his work.  
  
It would make him laugh, but it means he’s struck a balance that works for everyone, and if it endears him more to her, then all for the better.  
  
Director Graves comes in on Saturday, nearly an hour later than normal. Credence had begun to wonder if he wouldn’t be in at all but he’s relieved to see him when he’s delivering entrees to a nearby table and sees him sitting at his usual one.  
  
Their eyes meet and Credence smiles before turning away and walking to the bar. He gets the usual double of Pure Malt and takes it over on a tray and sets it on a cocktail napkin.  
  
“Good evening, Director Graves,” Credence says. “Late night at the office?”  
  
“A few individuals decided to make nuisances of themselves in Brooklyn,” Graves says with a wry smile. “It’ll be in the paper tomorrow. MACUSA’s Healer in the infirmary is a hard woman to please.”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “You were injured?”  
  
“Nothing a little burn concoction couldn’t fix,” Graves says and grimaces, like he’s experienced it a few too many times. “Had to go home and get the stench off once it had healed the burn.”  
  
“You were in a wand fight tonight,” Credence says slowly, “and you still felt like going out after?”  
  
Graves laughs. “I am unfortunately used to wand fights,” he says. “It’s best to keep the routine going. If I’d stayed at home, I’d drink more than half of a bottle of whiskey for dinner.”  
  
Credence huffs. “I suppose this is a healthier way to spend your evening,” he says and smiles. “Hopefully you’ll enjoy a good night of sleep after. What can I get you, Director?”  
  
Graves tells him what he’d like for his entire meal and Credence puts the first order in the kitchen. He visits his other tables and gets them what they need in between taking courses out to Graves and managing to fit in some light conversation here and there.  
  
It’s Christmas in just five days and busier because of it. By the time the clock is inching toward a quarter until eleven and people are finally beginning to disperse, Credence finds himself tired in a way he usually isn’t.  
  
If this all goes according to plan, he wonders how soon he might be able to quit working here.  
  
The times that Gnarlak has Credence do a job for a customer, Credence never meets that customer, and he finds that to be a far better arrangement than seeing hundreds of people each night and trying not to fling their precious pink salt at them.  
  
“You look like you’re ready for a good night of sleep yourself, Credence,” Graves says when Credence is flicking his wand at the table to gather the dishes into a neat pile.  
  
Credence shrugs, smiling. “It gets busier each night it gets closer to Christmas. I imagine Christmas Eve is going to be a nightmare.”  
  
“Aren’t you off on Wednesdays?”  
  
“All hands on deck,” Credence says with a sigh. “I’m told it’s even worse for New Years.”  
  
Graves chuckles. “I’m sure it is,” he says and smiles. “It’s a bit of a nightmare this time of the year in my office too.”  
  
“Criminals are very active during the holidays, it seems,” Credence says. “Will I see you the Saturday between holidays, Director?”  
  
“I have to find some peace in my weeks, so I imagine you will,” Graves says with a soft smile.  
  
Credence bites his lip and glances at his few remaining tables and coworkers, but no one is looking his way. “You know that Italian place on 37th?”  
  
“I do.”  
  
“I like it there,” Credence says. “A lot. One of my favorite places to go. If your, umm… offer is still on the table.”  
  
“It is,” Graves says warmly. “You’re working the next two Wednesdays? Do you still have Sundays off?”  
  
Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says. “Tomorrow and next week, if you have the time.”  
  
“Better tomorrow than next week for both our sakes’,” Graves says with a chuckle. “Does seven work for you?”  
  
“It does,” Credence says. “I’ll meet you there?”  
  
“Perfect,” Graves says. “Might I walk you out tonight?”  
  
Credence raises his eyebrows and bites his lip. Not even men who are genuinely trying to pick him up outside of his work have ever really been proper gentlemen. Not that Credence frequents areas with proper gentlemen outside of his work.  
  
“That… yeah, that sounds nice,” Credence says. “Meet me in the hall in about twenty minutes, if you don’t mind waiting.”  
  
“Not at all,” Graves says with a smile as he gazes at Credence. There’s softness to him, that peculiar affection, but Credence recognizes the beginning of heat there too.  
  
Not a flame he will be fanning tonight, even if he wouldn’t necessarily mind doing so.  
  
Credence takes care of Graves’ bill and makes one more stop at his table to give him a few Sprinks back. He leaves then, winking at Credence, and walks toward the hall where he will collect his coat.  
  
After finishing his two remaining tables, he walks into the kitchen and organizes the bills from his tables and puts them away. If he’s moving quickly, well, only Felix grins at him. He changes then, out of his least favorite clothes he’s ever owned, and into his own, soft and comfortable and warm, most of all, because it has snowed today and it’s freezing out.  
  
Credence says good night to his coworkers and walks out into the hall, smiling when he sees Director Graves waiting for him, bundled in his own long, fashionable coat. Anita’s, he thinks, the style recognizable from the numerous wealthy businessmen he’s worked in the past.  
  
“Are those coattails as painful for you as they are for me?” Graves asks and offers his arm.  
  
Credence laughs for a while, unable to help it, taking his arm. “You have… no idea,” he says with a smile as they walk to the lift. “I hope I don’t look as silly in them as I feel.”  
  
“Not silly at all,” Graves says. “Just a bit dramatic. I like this look on you.”  
  
“Thank you,” Credence says with a smile as they step into the lift when the doors open. He presses the lobby floor. “Though these are more comfortable than fashionable, but that's been my take on what I wear for a long time now.”  
  
“So the coattails are a new experience for you?”  
  
“And the bow ties.”  
  
“No dress robes?”  
  
Credence huffs and smiles. “Not really,” he says and shrugs as he looks at Graves. “Except for a funeral or two.”  
  
“Close to you?” Graves asks.  
  
“Just to the family,” Credence says. “I would’ve worn this if I’d been allowed.” He tugs lightly at his coat and smiles. “Have you ever worn coattails?”  
  
“One time,” Graves says with a chuckle. “A masquerade ball, if you can believe it.” He shakes his head when Credence gapes at him. “My father’s friends were very theatrical and I was sixteen, forced to go. It’s never happened again, in any case.”  
  
Credence grins. “Lucky you,” he says. “I have to bring you pumpkin squash soup with the most sincere smile on my face while wearing coattails and a bow tie.”  
  
Graves laughs. “Have your smiles been insincere?”  
  
“Well,” Credence sighs when they step off the lift and into the lobby. “Not for everyone, maybe.”  
  
Graves smiles as they walk out of the large doors and into the cold night. They both look up when they see it’s snowing, very lightly, and Credence smiles.  
  
“The first week is always beautiful at least,” he says and walks leisurely down the sidewalk with Graves, toward the alley most people Disapparate out of. “Before it tends to get bothersome for the rest of the season.”  
  
“Exactly how I feel about it,” Graves says with a wry smirk. “Snow is by far my worst enemy.”  
  
Credence nods. “I can see why it might be for you. I do like to walk through Central Park occasionally though. It’s beautiful when decorated for Christmas.”  
  
“I haven’t done that in years,” Graves says. “I never remember to.”  
  
“Maybe that can be a part of the peace you look for in your weeks too,” Credence says. “Walking through Central Park and taking in the sights.”  
  
“Maybe you can remind me to do that, when you see me,” Graves says. “I won’t likely forget.”  
  
“Maybe we can do it together sometime,” Credence says with a smile as he looks down at the sidewalk. “If you ever have the time.”  
  
Graves sighs as they reach the alley and stop once they’ve turned inside. “I’m more than glad to make time for that, Credence,” he says with a smile. “Here.”  
  
Credence looks up at him and bites his lip when Graves pulls off his very fine looking scarf and wraps it around Credence’s neck, tucking it up near his ears.  
  
“Your ears are red,” Graves says with a chuckle that’s fond. “You look cold.”  
  
“I probably use more warming charms than most people in the winter. I never seem to get warm no matter how hard I try,” Credence says as he reaches up to touch the soft wool. It smells good, like aftershave and the cologne Graves wears. “Thank you, Director Graves.”  
  
“You’re welcome, Credence,” Graves says and smiles, softly. “Please call me Percy.”  
  
Credence smiles and looks down at the ground. “Percy,” he says quietly. He looks at him. “Thank you, Percy.”  
  
Percy smiles again and adjusts the scarf a little more. “If it’s not too forward of me,” he says, “I would very much like to kiss you good night.”  
  
“I would very much like to be kissed good night,” Credence says and if he’s a bit breathless, well, no one else is around to hear it. Only the one who matters.  
  
The smell of his cologne is stronger when Percy moves closer, something expensive and heady, intoxicating, and Credence sees the heat in his eyes again. Feels the burn on his own skin, his cheeks hot with it, but he’ll need to keep his head tonight.  
  
Percy’s hands are impossibly warm when he cups Credence’s cheeks and when he kisses Credence, his lips and nose aren’t nearly as cold as Credence knows his own are, but it doesn’t seem to bother Percy. They both warm up quickly anyway, when Credence grabs the front of Percy’s coat and Percy gently presses him back against the brick wall.  
  
A kiss goodnight has turned into something more passionate and it’s easy to get lost in this, Credence thinks. To get lost in Percy, in his warmth, in the taste of whiskey and nutmeg on his tongue, in the scent of his cologne.  
  
When they break apart to breathe and Percy kisses his cheek and jaw, slowly down toward his neck, Credence tips his head back, his breath clouding above him and looks up at the stars. He’s been waiting for this moment and yet he’s a little annoyed it’s here.  
  
“Percy,” he whispers and fails at holding in a whimper when Percy kisses the sensitive skin below his ear, pulling the scarf down to do so. “Percy, I, umm… oh… wait, wait a minute.”  
  
Percy pulls back and looks at Credence, his lips rosy and his eyes dark, and Credence wants to be unraveled by him, at this very moment. “Sorry,” he says. “I know I said I’d kiss you good night. Too much?”  
  
“No,” Credence says with a helpless laugh. “Well, maybe.” He wrinkles his nose. “I just… I wanted to tell you before we… before we go out tomorrow. I’m not looking for… umm, well, I’m not looking for…”  
  
“Anything serious?” Percy asks with raised eyebrows.  
  
Credence grimaces. “Not that,” he mumbles. “I’m actually not looking for a… one and done thing. I don’t want to take this further with you if that’s all it’s going to be. I know you’re a busy man, but I’ve been looking for something more serious for a while now.”  
  
Percy looks over Credence’s face, a faint smile on his own, and he hums, sliding his hand to the back of Credence’s neck. “I normally do the one and done thing,” he says with a bit of a self-deprecating smirk. “But when I started talking to you, that’s not what I wanted either. I’d like to take you out and enjoy my time with you. If you’d rather wait for the physical aspect, I’m glad to. I like you, Credence, and I’d like to continue to get to know you.”  
  
Credence watches him speak, his heart hammering against his ribcage, and he smiles then. “Good,” he sighs in relief. Relief for a few different things. “I’m glad to hear that. I want to continue getting to know you as well. Outside of _Armando’s.”_ He grins when Percy chuckles. “So I’ll see you tomorrow night at seven?”  
  
“You will,” Percy promises and leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to Credence’s lips before he pulls away. He takes one of Credence’s hands and squeezes it briefly. “Sleep well, Credence.”  
  
“You too, Percy,” Credence says with a smile. He squeezes his hand in return before he lets it go. He Disapparates out of the alley and to the alley next to his apartment building.  
  
He leans against the wall there, closing his eyes and breathing in deeply a few times, to quiet his heart. He doesn’t normally feel quite so swept away and wryly thinks he should have let Percy take him home, so the _physical aspect_ could have distracted him from the romantic one.  
  
It’s not that he’s never felt his heart race a little harder when he’s working a man. But Credence will have to wrangle it in, because he will be seeing Percy regularly, rather than simply forgetting him and letting him become a memory, never asking Gnarlak what might have happened to him.  
  
He goes upstairs and into his apartment and gets into the shower to wash the night off. And maybe to give himself a little relief and a little bit of the physical aspect to cling to, to allow himself the thought that he can enjoy that, but he can’t enjoy more. He’s in this to learn about MACUSA and it’s innerworkings.  
  
Percy Graves is a job and he will end a job and Credence has already made peace with that. He had when Gnarlak handed him the file.  
  
Credence won’t disturb that peace.  
  
——  
  
Credence wakes up later than he usually does, plagued with nightmares, which happens occasionally. He’s tired, his sleep not restful, and he spends most of his day in his apartment reading.  
  
A nap isn’t out of the question but only serves to make him more groggy.  
  
He finds Gnarlak in his office a little after six and tells him he’s got a date.  
  
Gnarlak laughs. “So soon?” he asks and grins. “How about that? What’s he like? Respectful?”  
  
Credence smiles. It might be a job but anyone who has ever treated Credence disrespectfully tends to reap what they sow. “Yeah,” he says. “He’s nice. Funny too. And he likes me. Very much.”  
  
“I thought he just might,” Gnarlak says and waggles his long finger at Credence. “Don’t let him rush it.”  
  
“Already told him I’m interested in something serious,” Credence says. “It turns out he is too.”  
  
“He’s never been noted to be seeing anyone and you’ve got him wrapped around your finger in a few weeks,” Gnarlak says as he puffs on his cigar, turning back to some paperwork. “This is why you’re my favorite, Mister Barebone.”  
  
“I’m your favorite because you’re fond of me.”  
  
“Well,” Gnarlak says with a shrug, glancing at Credence with a wink. “Don’t tell nobody.”  
  
Credence chuckles. “I’m going to get ready,” he says and stands, walking to the door.  
  
“Am I expectin’ you home tonight?”  
  
“Didn’t you just say not to rush it?”  
  
“I’ll leave it up to your discretion, if he’s serious about you already.”  
  
Credence smiles. “Then maybe not,” he says and shakes his head when Gnarlak snickers. He leaves the office and walks to the door leading to the stairs inside, going back into his apartment.  
  
He showers and dresses in something casual. The Italian place isn’t ritzy but it’s got some pretty incredible food all the same. He’s only ever been there on his own or with people he’s working, because Gnarlak always wants him to stay away from him and his associates in the public eye. His greatest weapon, he says sometimes, and it’s best if no one knows about him.  
  
Credence agrees. It affords him privacy and security too, to not be seen with gangsters, to merely be a wizard to anyone who might look at him twice.  
  
He leaves his apartment and Disapparates out of the alley and to 37th Street. He looks up at the brownstone, standing in the small patio space behind it, the entrance into the restaurant. It’s on a quiet street and looks like a normal home to no-majs, but when Credence steps inside, it’s anything but. The Extension Charm makes for a large restaurant, decorated well with light hardwood floors and live grapevines creeping along the cream-colored walls. It smells like rich, hearty Italian food and Credence takes a seat in the waiting area for Percy.  
  
Percy arrives precisely at seven and Credence smiles when he walks in, dressed as finely as ever, everything about him immaculate. He wonders what he looks like when he’s anything but immaculate but pushes that thought away for later as he stands.  
  
“Good evening, Director Graves,” Credence says when Percy has spotted him and walks up to him.  
  
“Good evening, Credence,” Percy says with a faint smirk. “It just occurred to me I don’t know your surname.”  
  
“Barebone,” Credence says and grins. “I’m sure you still don’t know it.”  
  
Percy chuckles. “You’re right,” he says. “No-maj born?”  
  
Credence shrugs. “I don’t actually know. No-maj raised for a time,” he says and smiles when Percy frowns, looking at the host and asking for a booth.  
  
They’re led across the restaurant and to a booth in a corner, quiet and intimate, and they thank the host when he places menus in front of them, including the list of wines that are available this week.  
  
“Do you want to get a bottle?” Percy asks as he gestures at it.  
  
“I don’t drink,” Credence says. “I never found a taste for it. Get whatever you’d like though.”  
  
Percy chuckles. “I never know if I should find someone who doesn’t drink untrustworthy or enviable,” he says with a smirk. “It’s probably never a good habit to take up.”  
  
“That’s what I’ve always thought. I’ve seen what alcohol does to people when it’s not an enjoyable experience for them,” Credence says with a smile. “But I know I’m in the minority. I’m sure if I was in your shoes a glass of whiskey would be more welcome.”  
  
“It does help to keep my head on straight,” Percy says with some wryness.  
  
They both get iced tea.  
  
Once they’ve ordered dinner - chicken parmigiana for Credence and lobster ravioli in a tomato cream sauce for Percy - they fall into conversation and it’s easy. So easy and far more carefree than they’ve been able to enjoy in _Armando’s._ Credence finds he has a new appreciation for waiters and waitresses and is glad he’s never been the type of person to demand Himalayan salt just because it’s the trend of the month.  
  
Credence tells Percy he was working in Staten Island doing various different jobs before he met someone who offered him a better position at _Armando’s_ and had taken it, despite no experience in restaurants, because he wouldn’t have to worry so much about rent anymore.  
  
Percy buys it, because he may be used to hearing lies, but Credence is very practiced in hiding them.  
  
“So what does a day in the life of the Director of Magical Security look like?” Credence asks with a smile, putting his chin in his hand.  
  
Percy chuckles. “A lot of paperwork,” he says and smiles. “A lot of meetings with the President. And, occasionally, getting to plan raids or arrests of particular note.”  
  
“And stopping wizards who decide to pull their wands on each other in Brooklyn.”  
  
“That too,” Percy says and shakes his head. “Tempers tend to fly high around the holidays, not just criminal activity. It stopped being amazing to me many years ago just how often we tend to lose our heads and forget the Statute.”  
  
Credence smiles. “You’d think they would remember, it’s a hefty price to pay for breaking the Statute,” he says and hums when Percy nods in agreement. “You’ve put away or taken down some of the worst we’ve seen in the last decade. What’s it like to hunt them down?”  
  
Percy narrows his eyes in consideration. “It’s interesting. Fascinating sometimes, always a puzzle with many pieces to fit together,” he says. “If you have the mind for the work, it’s easy to look past what they’re actually doing and find the pattern so you might predict their next moves. To find and follow them and eventually, as you say, put them away or take them down.”  
  
“I can’t even imagine going up against the type of people you do. I know you’re immensely skilled in defense, but they have to be just as skilled in the Dark Arts.”  
  
“They are,” Percy agrees. “And sometimes we pay the price for that. But I’ve only landed myself in St Lyptus’ a few times over my career.”  
  
“Is that why they made you Director?”  
  
Percy laughs. “That and a few other reasons,” he says with a smile. “I deal in politics as well as law enforcement.”  
  
Credence smiles as he gazes at Percy. “I have to admit it’s strange to be on a date with you. Not bad,” he says hastily. “But you know the President. You sit on the Court. Everyone knows your face.” He squints in thought. “I doubt they know you have a thing for pumpkin squash soup though.”  
  
“I’d prefer if that didn’t make it to _Witches Weekly,”_ Percy says while laughing. “I am human, you know.”  
  
“I do know,” Credence says. “I bet most people don’t realize it until they talk to you for a little while though. I was nervous when I knew I had your table.”  
  
“You didn’t seem nervous.”  
  
Credence shrugs. “I learned how to hide that a long time ago,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t a wreck when I first said hello to you.”  
  
Percy’s smiling warmly as he looks at Credence. “Hopefully some of that’s been eased by now.”  
  
“Mostly,” Credence says and grins. “Still nervous about a few things. But I also know you ate a slice of cheesecake when you don’t like dessert to stay a little longer at my table.”  
  
“I do like dessert,” Percy says with put-on defense. “Dessert doesn’t like me. But you’re right that I wanted to stick around longer. I’m glad I did.”  
  
“Me too,” Credence says with a smile as he looks down at the table.  
  
Dinner comes then and Credence is a little envious that their waiter is allowed to use magic to levitate their plates down to them. They thank him and Credence sighs as he looks at Percy.  
  
“We’re only allowed to use spells to clean tables or carry particularly heavy dinner trays to tables, you know,” Credence says. “And nothing else. Doing it by hand apparently makes people feel more _important and welcome_ as a guest.”  
  
“That’s how most restaurants are that deal in high society,” Percy says with amusement. “I am a great proponent of actually using the magic in our veins to make our lives easier and more convenient.”  
  
“Maybe if you start telling the owners of all these high society restaurants that you feel that way, they’ll start changing their policies,” Credence says and smiles when Percy chuckles. “I only get away with not having to buy pomade because my hair doesn’t cooperate and my boss told me she understood.”  
  
Percy continues to laugh. “I like your hair as it is,” he says. “I’m not sure I can picture you with pomade in it.”  
  
“Good,” Credence says. “Because you’ll never see it either. It’s got to be a bad look.”  
  
“I don’t think you could ever look bad,” Percy says with a smirk. “But you are lucky the _just rolled out of bed_ look is something you can get away with at work.”  
  
“The President would probably never take you seriously if you strolled into MACUSA the same way.”  
  
“That’s assuming she ever takes me seriously anyway.”  
  
Credence grins as he cuts into his chicken. “There are a lot of rumors in _Witches Weekly,_ you know. About you two.”  
  
Percy grimaces. “I do know,” he says. “If I knew I might have columns dedicated to my love life in a rag magazine, I might have chosen a different career. Do you read _Witches Weekly,_ Credence?”  
  
“No,” Credence says with a laugh. “But I’ve heard the rumors anyway.”  
  
“You’ll be glad to know they’re only rumors,” Percy says with some dryness. “The President and I are close friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”  
  
Credence smiles. “I am glad to know that,” he says. “You went to Ilvermorny together, didn’t you?”  
  
“Grew up together,” Percy agrees. “Same year in Wampus. What was your House?”  
  
“I didn’t have one,” Credence says and smiles faintly when Percy looks at him, his eyebrows raised. “I was taught at home.”  
  
Percy peers at him. “There’s some mystery surrounding you, Mister Barebone.”  
  
Credence laughs. “Not really,” he says and takes a bite of his dinner, waving his fork. “I was put in an orphanage not long after I was born and adopted by a no-maj. When my letter was delivered, she put me out on the streets. Kind woman, I know,” he adds dryly as Percy stares at him, looking taken aback. “The wizarding world found me though. I was adopted by a man who believed he was a better teacher than any I would find at Ilvermorny and it was his right to teach me at home anyway. Left there the day I turned seventeen and never went back.”  
  
It’s almost all completely true. Credence never got along with Holt, never looked at him as family, because Holt didn’t treat him as family. He treated him like an employee in training and once his training was done, Credence had left. They see each other now and then still, Holt running the same smuggling business he always has, but there’s no love lost between them.  
  
Percy takes a bite of his dinner and is quiet for a moment or two as he watches Credence. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to experience Ilvermorny,” he says. “You seem to have found some peace and happiness.”  
  
Credence nods. “I have,” he says. “It took a long time but the last ten years of my life have especially been what I’ve always wanted. I might not have a family but I have people who care about me all the same. It’s not a glamorous life, maybe, but I’ve only ever wanted to be content. I think that’s all anyone can ask for anyway.”  
  
“It is,” Percy says with a faint smile. “Life has too many downs to always be happy, doesn’t it? I do know a little something about not having family myself. Well, not anymore. Not something I would’ve liked to have in common with you, honestly.”  
  
“By 1920 a lot of people were left without a family they loved. I’m okay not having the people who chose to be my family in my life,” Credence says softly. “What happened to yours?”  
  
“Not the war or flu, certainly,” Percy says. “I lost my sister, mother and father all in about three years. Lifestyle choices,” he adds with a wry smile. “Extended family is withered down to just about nothing too but that’s what Pureblood mentality does to you.”  
  
Credence wrinkles his nose. “Once you start running out of cousins your blood gets a little less pure,” he says and smiles when Percy points his fork at him in agreement. “It sounds like you have some found family though.”  
  
“One or two,” Percy says with a smile. “It sounds like you do too.”  
  
“Better than blood,” Credence says fondly. “Not that I knew my blood either way.”  
  
“Never looked?”  
  
Credence shakes his head. “I might be sympathetic to some reasons my family might have put me in an orphanage after I was born but not sympathetic enough to care who they were,” he says. “I prefer to not know. I only kept the name Barebone because I’ve known it my whole life and the man who adopted me didn’t care much either way.”  
  
“The woman who adopted you named you?”  
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums. “I didn’t have a name at all before then.” He smiles. “I know it’s not a nice name. Not the way she meant it to be, with Christianity in mind.”  
  
“A religious woman,” Percy says and frowns in distaste. “She’s lucky she’s protected by the Statute.”  
  
“Would you have arrested her if you saw her throw me out on the streets?” Credence asks with amusement.  
  
“I would certainly have liked to,” Percy says. “She’s also lucky the no-maj orphanage system is the mess it is or the police might have done it for me.”  
  
Credence chuckles. “I was just happy to get away from her, you know,” he says with a smile. “If she hadn’t kicked me out, I might be stuck there today, for all I know, without even a wand.”  
  
“I’m glad the wizarding world found you. And I like your name,” Percy says with a soft smile. “You’re a remarkable person, Credence. People only come out of what you did one of two ways.”  
  
Credence bites his lip and his heart thumps harder. “Hating the world and people or understanding them both,” he says quietly.  
  
“And being better for it,” Percy says in agreement.  
  
 _Oh, Director Graves,_ Credence thinks as he smiles at Percy, _you’ve no idea._ _  
_  
“I’m glad to have met you, Percy,” Credence says as he gazes at him and his heart is heavy in a way it usually isn’t. “You’re a good man.”  
  
Percy smiles and it’s a smile that says he might not agree, the way Credence doesn’t agree he’s a remarkable person. But for Percy, it’s true. He’s a good man, that isn’t hard to see now that Credence has gotten to know him beyond just knowing who he is from his work.  
  
There will never be a guarantee that even the person tasked with protecting people, wizard and no-maj alike, is a good person themselves.  
  
But Percy is. He came out of what he did understanding the world and people _and being better for it,_ the opposite of what Credence would be in his eyes, if he knew the truth about him.  
  
“Thank you, Credence,” Percy says with a faint smile. “You want some dessert?”  
  
“I want you,” Credence says softly.  
  
Percy gazes at Credence for a while, like he’s looking for hesitation or doubt or a lie, but there are none to be found. His eyes are a bit darker then and he nods, lifting his hand to their passing waiter and asking for the bill.  
  
When Credence slides his hand toward him, Percy takes it, his warm and comforting, his thumb brushing over Credence’s.  
  
Once the bill has been paid and they walk out of the restaurant, into the back patio, they see it’s covered lightly with snow now. It’s gently falling and Percy’s arm slips around Credence’s waist and he leans into him, looking at him.  
  
“My place or yours?” Percy asks with a smile.  
  
Credence laughs. “Mine’s a hole in the wall. Yours, please.”  
  
Percy chuckles and after he’s tightened his grip, they Disapparate from the restaurant and with a _crack,_ they’re in an alleyway. Percy kisses Credence’s cheek and takes his hand, leading him out onto the sidewalk.  
  
Credence glances around the Upper West Side and smiles, because their approximation of where he lived was estimated to be one of these high rise apartment buildings.  
  
The lobby is beautiful, with beautiful people in it, so different from what Credence knows, but he suspects this will become a place he visits often. Percy leads him to a lift and they take it up to what must be the top floor or near it. Even the hallway is nice, no bare walls and ugly grey paint like Credence’s spare apartment building is.  
  
Percy’s apartment is as handsome as he is. Dark floors and wooden beams on the ceiling, magnificent windows that look out across Central Park and Manhattan, and the snow is falling heavier now, obscuring the view a little, but it’s a breathtaking sight all the same.  
  
Credence doesn’t get much more of a look though, because Percy pulls him close and Credence comes willingly. This kiss is much like their first one, passionate and heated, but there is a sense of direction to it, a sense of urgency.  
  
He slides his hands across Percy’s shoulders and holds onto him, moaning when Percy’s own hands move further down than the small of his back.  
  
When they break apart, it’s only to take their coats off and Credence moves his hands to Percy’s jacket, unbuttoning it before undoing his tie and pulling it off. He drops it unceremoniously to the ground but Percy only chuckles and kisses Credence’s jaw, moving down along to his neck.  
  
Credence unbuckles Percy’s belt and drops it too. “I know what I want tonight,” he says with a soft sigh of pleasure as Percy nibbles at the sensitive skin on his neck.  
  
“Oh?” Percy asks and kisses Credence’s neck before pulling back to look at him. “Tell me.”  
  
“I want to suck your cock,” Credence says and smiles when Percy’s eyes grow darker, his eyelids heavier. “And then I want to ride you until you come inside of me. But if you have something else in mind, I want to hear it.”  
  
Percy chuckles, low with arousal. “I think I can get on board with that, sweetheart,” he says and moves his hands to Credence’s ass, squeezing it. “Bedroom?”  
  
“Yes, please,” Credence says with a grin. After they’ve kicked their shoes off and Percy has led Credence into his bedroom, turning on a lamp, Credence stops him from pulling off his waistcoat. “Leave it on. Sit on the edge of the bed.”  
  
Percy raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Anything for you,” he says. “You like the suit on?”  
  
“I’ve never seen a man that looks as good in a suit as you,” Credence says and finds that he means this, completely. “I want you naked after. But if you ever want to fuck me while wearing it…”  
  
“I’m sure we can manage that,” Percy says with a chuckle. “You are very sure of what you want, aren’t you?”  
  
“I hope you don’t mind,” Credence says as he watches Percy sit on the edge of the bed and spread his legs open invitingly. “I’d like to hear everything you want too.”  
  
Percy smirks. “I don’t mind at all, Credence,” he says and it’s in a husky sort of way that sends a surge of arousal through Credence’s blood. “If I can give you what you want, I gladly will. I plan on doing this as often as we have the time and mood for it.”  
  
Credence smiles as he gets onto his knees between Percy’s. “Good,” he says softly. “I want this as much as I want to know you. All of you, someday.”  
  
He finishes buttoning the waistcoat and does the same to Percy’s shirt, pushing them open but leaving them on. He looks up at Percy, who is watching him with a faint smile, arousal plain on his face and he moves his hand to Credence’s hair, brushing his fingers through it.  
  
“You’re stunning, Credence,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”  
  
Credence’s cheeks feel warm and he smiles as he looks down at Percy’s trousers, unbuttoning and unzipping them. “Thank you,” he says. He tugs on Percy’s underclothes until he frees his cock and looks it over, flushed with blood, thick and perfectly sized. He sighs and looks at Percy. “You’re perfect all around, you know.”  
  
Percy chuckles. “As long as you think so,” he says and hisses when Credence wraps his hand around his cock and gives him a slow stroke. “Fuck, Credence.”  
  
Credence likes hearing his name come out of Percy’s mouth that way. Grunted and with a low, simmering pleasure. His own cock throbs but he’s more concerned about Percy’s. He moves closer and grips Percy’s hip as he leans in and licks the bead of precome off the tip of his cock.  
  
He takes Percy into his mouth and closes his eyes as he listens to him groan. His fingers are still in Credence’s hair but he’s not gripping or guiding him. Credence is glad for it, thinks it’s the gentleman Percy is continually proving himself to be, and moves further down his cock, slow and gentle.  
  
“Fuck,” Percy swears again, his breath hitching. “That’s good, sweetheart.”  
  
Credence hums around Percy’s cock and takes him in deep before pulling up, once he’s slick with spit. He holds the base of Percy’s cock, over his trousers, and swirls his tongue around the head, just until Percy curses with more fervor.  
  
He moves, up and down along him, and Percy’s fingers do tighten then, but not enough to hurt. His groans and the whisper of Credence’s name makes him whine and he finds he’s more eager to be fucked than he has been in a while.  
  
The sound of his mouth moving over a cock has always been a turn on to Credence and it’s only more so with Percy. Obscene outside of a bedroom to most people and Credence wonders if Percy will let him do this to him outside of a bedroom. Outside of the apartment.  
  
That thought is a turn on too.  
  
Credence can feel Percy’s thigh muscles tightening when he moves faster and slows down to work on the head of his cock, tasting more of his precome, dipping his tongue into the slit, until Percy’s hissing at the sensitivity.  
  
He only takes him deep into his throat a few more times, so Percy might not come, but it’s hard not to keep going, because the sounds Percy is making are beautiful.  
  
“Fuck!” Percy chokes out when Credence takes him all the way in. “Credence, if you still want to ride my cock, you better do it or I’m going to come down your throat,” he says through a few heaving breaths.  
  
Credence pulls off of him and licks his lips as he looks up at Percy, a few strands of his dark hair hanging over his forehead now, and he looks a bit ruined. Possibly the best thing Credence has seen to date.  
  
He grins. “You couldn’t go again?” he teases as he strokes Percy’s cock, slow and loose.  
  
Percy huffs a little, moving his hand down to Credence’s mouth, his thumb brushing over Credence’s lower lip, until Credence takes it into his mouth and sucks on it.  
  
“I’m sure I could,” Percy says with a lazy smirk. “But I’d rather come inside you first tonight. Maybe down your throat next time. I’d like to return the favor too.”  
  
Credence hums around Percy’s thumb before letting it go. “Sounds good to me,” he says with a smile. “Do you like being fucked too?”  
  
“I do,” Percy says. “Haven’t been in a while but I’m looking forward to it with you. I think I’ll enjoy just about everything with you, Credence.”  
  
“Good,” Credence says and wipes his chin off. “When was the last time you were with anyone? And where’s your lube?”  
  
Percy chuckles and holds his hand out toward his nightstand. The drawer opens and a bottle of personal lubricant zooms into his hand. “It’s been a while since I took someone home at all. Over a year,” he says and smiles. “I don’t go out except to _Armando’s_ and a bar with a colleague.”  
  
“I guess I got lucky then,” Credence says with a smile. “Your long days probably don’t help.”  
  
“They do not,” Percy sighs in agreement. “But then I haven’t wanted to spend time with anyone in a long time either. I’ll have the time to give you that you deserve from me.”  
  
Credence stands on achy knees and leans in, kissing Percy gently. “Thank you,” he says softly. “I’m glad you feel the same way I do.” He pulls back and takes his shirt and undershirt off, tossing them on the ground.  
  
Percy looks him over with a sigh of pleasure. “Beautiful,” he says and pulls his waistcoat and jacket off all the way. He reaches forward and hooks his fingers in Credence’s trousers, pulling him closer.  
  
Credence lets him, smiling and moving his hands up, brushing his fingers through Percy’s hair as he works on getting Credence’s trousers off. He kisses Credence’s navel and alongside the line of hair leading to his underclothes. Percy kisses Credence’s hip then and looks up at him as he pulls those off.  
  
He’s sweet, sweeter than most, not in a rush for either of them to finish. But then, Credence has never done this with anyone - job or not - where they mean to have it continue. Where they mean for this to be the first of many.  
  
“I want to get you ready,” Percy says. “How would you like me to?”  
  
“I probably won’t need much,” Credence says and laughs when Percy raises his eyebrows in a way that says _you don’t say._ “I might do this more often than you.”  
  
“I’ve gathered,” Percy says and pinches Credence’s ass. “I like the confidence in you. Were you tired of it not being serious?”  
  
Credence nods. “Yeah,” he says and pulls back a little. “I think I’ve been tired of that for a while, actually. Lay on your back, I want to be on top of you.”  
  
Percy gets out of his trousers and moves onto the bed, lying down and offering his hand to Credence. Credence takes it and straddles his waist. He looks Percy over, the strength he has in him, the smoothness of his skin, only marred by a scar here and there.  
  
He slides his hands along his abdomen and chest, over his shoulders and leans down so he can kiss Percy. It’s a slow and gentle thing and Percy’s arms are tight around his back.  
  
Credence rocks his hips until their cocks slide together and he moans. They break apart so Percy can grab the lube, which has rolled down toward his thigh, and his hand slides along Credence’s back before stopping, once he feels anything but smooth skin.   
  
He looks at Credence then with a frown and Credence only smiles.  
  
“Later,” he says. “I’ll tell you later. I want you in me, Percy.”  
  
Percy furrows his brow and looks like he’s been thrown off kilter, which Credence has done to him a few times tonight, but that’s okay for now. “Alright, sweetheart,” Percy says and gets lube on his fingers, until three are slick with it.  
  
Credence moves forward to make it easier, holding himself up, and closes his eyes, biting his lower lip when Percy’s fingers move back and to his hole. He spreads the lube slowly around it, thankfully the kind that goes warm once it’s on skin, and slides one finger inside and Credence gasps.  
  
“Oh,” he whispers. He whines when Percy’s finger curls in him, finding his prostate and rubbing against it. “Right there, Percy.”  
  
Credence looks down at Percy and the way Percy is looking at him is enough to throw him off kilter too. There’s such affection in his gaze, more than Credence deserves so soon, and he doesn’t know what Percy sees in him, but it simultaneously thrills and terrifies him.  
  
Percy slides another finger in as they look at each other and Credence’s mouth falls open as he moans and gently rocks back against his fingers.  
  
“You’re a damn work of art, Credence.”  
  
Credence grins and laughs through the pleasure, his cheeks hot. “What does that make you then?”  
  
“A fucking lucky bastard,” Percy says with a smirk and curls his fingers until Credence is moaning again. “That’s it. You want another?”  
  
Credence can only nod while Percy’s stroking him the way he is and try not to rock back too hard when Percy pulls his fingers out but pushes three in. He gasps and tilts his head back, his toes curling.  
  
“Fuck yes,” Credence gasps. He presses back more insistently until Percy begins to thrust his fingers in and out of him, an easy slick, slide. “Percy,” he whines, his cock throbbing between them, leaking heavily. “That feels so good. I’m ready. I want you in me.”  
  
“Alright, love,” Percy says roughly and sounds rather ruined again. He pulls his fingers out and when his hand grips Credence’s hip, it’s dry and clean.  
  
Credence sits up and he’s breathing unevenly as he looks down at Percy. He licks his lips and picks up the lube, putting some in his palm and feeling it warm up. He moves back and spreads it over Percy’s cock, watching Percy’s head tip back, the line of his throat an incredibly fine sight.  
  
He slicks his own cock as well and moves forward, until he can reach back and grasp Percy’s cock, holding it steady. Credence looks at Percy then as he presses down against the head and bites his lip when he slides in with only a slight burn that’s gone as easily as it came. His body is well used to this. He moves down slowly then, until he can let go of Percy and seats himself on his lap.  
  
“Fuck,” Credence whispers and adjusts himself until he’s comfortable, reaching back and grasping onto Percy’s thighs. “Oh, you’re perfect, Percy. You feel so good.”  
  
“Credence,” Percy moans and holds tight onto Credence’s waist. “Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous. If only you knew.”  
  
Credence can see the faint shadow of snowflakes on the wall in front of him, the window curtains open behind him, and he wonders what he looks like with them falling behind him, wonders what Percy would look like in the same way.  
  
He moves then, a few slow rolls of his hips, moaning at the feel of Percy’s thick cock shifting inside him. Percy whispers _please_ and Credence slides up and back down, slowly, until he finds the right rhythm.  
  
It’s easy to move faster then, both of them pushed well to the edge of arousal, and Credence rides Percy with determination, a harsh slap of skin on skin ringing through the room. He cries out, broken, each time Percy is buried deep in him.  
  
Percy’s groans are music to his ears and his hands move along Credence. Over his thighs and hips, his stomach and around to his back. He touches Credence like he’s worth something, worth being touched, worth being admired, and if Credence’s next cry sounds a little more broken, it doesn’t seem to bother Percy.  
  
He wraps his hand around Credence’s cock instead, slick with lube and strokes him. Credence’s movements falter and Percy’s other hand on his hip guides him back into it, but his skin is on fire and he’s so close.  
  
“I need to come,” Credence gasps and looks down at Percy, at the pleasure on his own face, at his hand on Credence’s cock. “Oh, Merlin, please, Percy, I want to come!”  
  
“Come, love,” Percy says hoarsely, twisting his wrist just right as he strokes Credence. “Let me see you.”  
  
Credence shudders and he tightens his grip on Percy’s thighs as he moves a bit harder and faster, enough to push him over the edge. He throws his head back with a cry of Percy’s name as he comes, hot and wet, his ass squeezing Percy’s cock with each spasm that moves through his own.  
  
Percy groans, long and low, and it must be just enough for him too, because Credence feels his cock pulsing inside of him. He looks down through the haze of his orgasm and at Percy, at the way his brow is furrowed, his mouth open as he fills Credence with his come.  
  
He’s beautiful, Credence thinks a bit wildly, beautiful in every way, and Credence wants to see this, as often as he can, all the time, forever.  
  
He leans forward and presses his hands on the bed by Percy’s shoulders, looking down at him, moaning softly as he finishes. _“Oh,”_ he pants. “Oh, Merlin.”  
  
Percy smiles through a heavy breath and moves his hands up, sliding along Credence’s hips and over his lower back. He leans up and Credence meets him, kissing him, only a brief thing as they catch their breath.  
  
“You’re incredible, Credence,” Percy says. “Everything about you.”  
  
Credence smiles before biting his lip. “You are too, Percy,” he says and leans down to kiss his chin. He sits up again because Percy is softening, keeping him inside for a moment longer, and looks at his come over Percy’s stomach.  
  
He’s going to be horny for a month, he knows, and if they don't see each other as often as they’d like, he has plenty to remember in the meantime.  
  
After a bit of a mess that Percy swiftly cleans up, Credence rolls onto his back next to him and looks at the windows, at the thick snowfall outside. He smiles and looks at Percy then, who waves his hand over his stomach so that mess disappears too.  
  
“I can’t do that,” he says and smiles when Percy looks at him. “Wandless magic. I can barely do nonverbal magic.”  
  
Percy smiles. “Not many who spent seven years at Ilvermorny can either,” he says. “Well, nonverbal is taught in sixth and seventh, but not wandless. Hard thing to master.”  
  
“You make it look so easy,” Credence says and moves onto his side to face Percy, resting his hand on his stomach with some hesitation.  
  
Percy picks his hand up and kisses his knuckles. He holds it then and smiles. “Took me a long time to learn it,” he says. “A lot of training to master it. But it keeps me alive, so it’s worth it.”  
  
Credence smiles. “Maybe you can give me some pointers on nonverbal magic someday,” he says. “Not that I think I’ll be using it for defense. But it’d be nice to be confident in nonverbal.”  
  
“I can definitely do that,” Percy says with a chuckle. “You damn well better not need it for defense.”  
  
“Just to clean my apartment and not say Scourgify fifteen times as I do,” Credence says with a cheeky smile.  
  
Percy smiles and shakes his head, leaning over to kiss Credence’s forehead. “It’s a nice image though, you wandering around yelling Scourgify at everything,” he says and chuckles when Credence elbows him. “You staying tonight?”  
  
“Maybe,” Credence says. “Do I have to leave at four in the morning so you can go to work?”  
  
“I don’t leave at four,” Percy says. “I leave at five.” He laughs when Credence groans. “We can sleep in a little. Maybe aim for six. Six-thirty is pushing it, they’ll send the hounds after me if I’m so late.”  
  
“Aren’t you the boss?”  
  
“The boss that’s never been late before.”  
  
Credence sighs. “You’re a workaholic, aren’t you? You don’t even get to the restaurant until seven.”  
  
“I take long lunches to break up the day,” Percy says and smiles. “And I’ll be taking the time off when you have time of your own, remember?”  
  
“True. Still makes you a workaholic,” Credence says. “Do you do anything for Christmas?”  
  
“Not really,” Percy says. “Get a few gifts by owl in the morning and make some good food and drink some good whiskey. Catch up on a book or two.”  
  
Credence smiles as he watches Percy. “You like to read?”  
  
“I love to read. Spent a lot of my time in Ilvermorny in the library reading for leisure if it wasn’t for homework. I wish I had the time to do it more often.”  
  
“I wish you did too. Reading is the only thing that keeps me sane sometimes,” Credence sighs and rests his head near Percy’s shoulder, looking up at the windows, snowflakes drifting past them. “My friends always give me a stack of books on Christmas and I spend the rest of the day in my apartment reading. They all drink too much for it to be enjoyable for me otherwise.”  
  
“Have you ever had an enjoyable Christmas?” Percy asks and squeezes Credence’s hand.  
  
“If you mean by eating a Christmas feast and spending time with loved ones while feeling the holiday spirit, no,” Credence says quietly. “But it’s not so bad, reading in my apartment. It’s peaceful.”  
  
Percy hums. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he says and kisses Credence’s forehead when he yawns. He raises his hand until the sheets and comforter slide over them. “Let’s get some sleep.”  
  
“Okay,” Credence says with a smile, mostly for himself. “Thanks, Percy.”  
  
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Percy says and the lamp turns off with a click. The moonlight isn’t so bright, hidden behind the thick storm clouds, but it’s brighter than Credence’s room by far.  
  
He watches the snowfall for a while and listens to Percy’s slow and deep breathing, feeling it beneath his hand. Credence falls asleep to that, more of a comfort than it’s ever been before.  
  
——  
  
Credence wakes in the morning to Percy’s warm hand rubbing his lower back and the touch of his lips on his shoulder.  
  
It’s such an unusual way to be woken up, Credence thinks, foreign to him, but he’s already relaxed into it and he smiles to himself before turning his head and looking up at Percy.  
  
Percy smiles, propped up on his elbow, the lamp on, a soft enough light that it’s not bothersome. “Six,” he says quietly. “As much as I’d love to stay in bed with you all day.”  
  
Credence hums and stretches, moving his arms out from under his pillow and propping himself up enough so he can steal a kiss. “We should do that soon,” he says and smiles. “I’m gonna go home and go back to bed though.”  
  
“I envy you,” Percy chuckles and leans down to kiss Credence again. His hand slides up and down along Credence’s back and the scars don’t seem to bother him. “Want to shower with me before you go?”  
  
“Yes, please,” Credence says.  
  
They get up after that and Credence envies Percy for the obvious energy he already has. He hadn’t had nightmares and he’d slept well, but the night before hadn’t been ideal. He suspects relaxing for Percy is as stressful as not having any time for relaxing is for Credence.  
  
Hopefully they strike a nice balance soon enough.  
  
Percy’s shower is large and the water is warm and he stands behind Credence as he washes his hair for him, possibly the best thing he’s ever felt. Percy rinses his hair clean and moves his hands down along Credence’s shoulders and arms.  
  
“I know it’s ugly,” he says, because he can feel Percy’s stare.  
  
“It’s not ugly,” Percy says quietly, something tight in his voice. “Nothing about you could ever be. I only wish you hadn’t suffered it.”  
  
Credence hums as he grabs the soap and wets it so he can clean himself. “It was a long time ago,” he says and smiles. “I had to stop caring about them or I’d never move on. It did take me a few years to be comfortable shirtless in front of anyone though.”  
  
“You’re beautiful, Credence,” Percy says. “I hope others have told you that.”  
  
“Not the way you do,” Credence says and bites his lip, glad he’s turned away because his eyes burn unexpectedly. He’s going to have to get over this little hurdle soon so he can refocus on why he’s doing this.  
  
Twenty big ones and his continued safety, his continued security.  
  
Percy’s loss will shake up the wizarding world for a long while. It’s bound to change things and for the better, for him, for the people he knows. For a while anyway.  
  
But MACUSA will be damaged as well, taken advantage of, even if they come back stronger after.  
  
Credence turns around once he’s got a hold of himself and looks at Percy with a smile, handing him the soap. “Come on, you don’t want to be later than you already are.”  
  
Once they’ve finished and dried and dressed, Percy wraps his arms around Credence and kisses him, slow and deep, and Credence holds on, and knows this is just the first of many mornings.  
  
Credence Disapparates out of the alley after telling Percy to have a good day and appears in the small walkway between Gnarlak’s office and the stairs. Dawn is breaking and Credence looks up at the sky as it begins to brighten, the stars still faintly visible.  
  
He smiles and walks inside, upstairs and into his apartment. He kicks his shoes off and collapses into bed, grabbing Percy’s picture off of his night stand. Credence looks at it for a while, tracing the lines of his face, and thinks about knowing the man now. Knowing who he is, what he’s like, and it’s strange, what just a few weeks can do.  
  
Credence falls asleep with Percy’s picture on his chest and doesn’t wake until the sun has long been in the sky.  
  
——  
  
“Do you know how horrible this is?” Credence asks Felix on Wednesday night, around seven in the evening. _“Do you?”_  
  
Felix snickers as he throws a handful of freshly made pasta into a pot of boiling water. “You knew this would be a long job,” he says as he looks at Credence with a grin. “Sometimes you gotta sacrifice a little, Cree.”  
  
Credence groans and stretches his arms in different directions, trying to get the ache out of his shoulders. He’s hiding in the kitchen for a minute or two, down by Felix’s station, and the other chefs are talking loudly down along the way.  
  
Christmas Eve is a nightmare. Credence wishes his manager, Astoria, was on the take, so he only had to work a couple days a week and not five of them. Not Christmas Eve, especially, because it’s _an absolute_ _nightmare._  
  
The holiday spirit in high society means more booze, but it also means having to say Merry Christmas every five minutes and granting their frankly ridiculous requests, because they feel even bolder than they already are, like they’re due their nonsense because of the holiday.  
  
He doesn’t even get anything out of this. Just some extra coin, not nearly as much as he earns otherwise, and he won’t see Percy until Saturday. An entire week of pretending to be normal, of pretending this is a regular job, all so he can work a man and he fears he might be stuck here for a long time yet.  
  
“I hate my job,” Credence says petulantly.  
  
“You love it,” Felix says. “Or you wouldn’t do it.”  
  
“I’m going to get myself a nice apartment after this,” Credence declares. “Away from the bar. Something with nice floors. And windows. I don’t care what anyone says about it.”  
  
“At least you’re aiming big,” Felix says and laughs. “Nice floors and windows. I don’t want to know what you’re getting paid,” he adds quietly and winks at Credence. “But maybe aim even bigger.”  
  
“I can’t be too showy,” Credence sighs. “Well, maybe I can. I don’t know, we’ll see.”  
  
They look at Ry as she walks down toward them, her eyebrows raised. “Credence, you have two tables looking for you. Better get to them before Astoria notices you’re hiding,” she says with a faint smirk before turning on her heel and leaving.  
  
Credence sighs. “I hate my job,” he says and smiles wanly when Felix pats his shoulder. “Four more hours.”  
  
“Four more hours,” Felix agrees as he flicks his wand at the stove.  
  
Four more hours goes by quickly, as much of a nightmare as it is, and he only gets the chance to hide one more time, mostly so he can catch his breath. He changes in the bathroom as soon as all the diners are gone and he’s dealt with organizing the bills. His coworkers wish him a Merry Christmas as he leaves and he wishes them one as well, while thinking that he can’t wait to never see their faces again. Besides Felix, whenever he drops by the speakeasy.  
  
It’s supposed to be a white Christmas and when Credence steps outside into an abysmally cold night, he glances up at the sky, covered by thick clouds. At least he can watch it snow tomorrow while reading and recovering.  
  
“Busy night?”  
  
Credence jumps and looks around and his mouth falls open when he sees who is leaning against the building just down the way from him. He can’t help his laugh and smile.  
  
“You have no idea,” he says and walks to Percy.  
  
Percy’s smiling too and he’s been home, because he’s out of a suit, though still wearing his warm and fashionable coat. He opens his arms and Credence slumps into them, resting his head on his shoulder.  
  
“That bad, huh?” Percy asks with a chuckle as he rubs Credence’s back.  
  
“I’m coming down with a bad case of ague on New Years Eve,” Credence mutters as he holds tightly onto Percy. “It’s so late. How was your night?”  
  
“Not as bad as yours, sounds like. I wanted to see you,” Percy says and kisses the back of Credence’s neck. “Cracked down on an illegal potions brewery this morning but it was quiet otherwise.”  
  
Credence wonders which one it was, as he knows of a few. He pulls back to look at Percy and smiles as he grips his coat. “That’s good,” he says. “Seeing you tonight almost makes up for work.”  
  
“Almost?” Percy laughs. “Anything bad happen?”  
  
“No, not like that. Though one of my tables kept snapping their fingers at me like I’m a dog. My boss told them to knock it off though,” Credence says and smiles when Percy shakes his head, lips thinned. “I think I pulled at least four muscles in my shoulders and I can only hope I have a salve at home.”  
  
“Always good to keep a stock of muscle strain salves at home,” Percy says. “Among others. You need some help?”  
  
Credence smiles. “My apartment isn’t exactly something I’m eager to invite you to,” he mutters. “Not after yours.”  
  
And he really isn’t, because the place Gnarlak gave him is awful. He’d been a bit shocked when he checked on it and did what he could to make it livable and to make the furniture more comfortable, but it’s still in a bad area and he’s fairly sure there’s something living in the walls of the bedroom that is neither a rat or cockroach infestation.  
  
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Percy says with a smile. “Or we can go to mine.”  
  
“Good luck getting me to leave after.”  
  
“Then don’t.”  
  
Credence smiles and looks down at the collar of Percy’s coat. “That would be spending Christmas together, you know.”  
  
“I do know,” Percy says and moves back, taking Credence’s hand in his own. “Come on. Let’s get you taken care of.”  
  
Credence laughs. “Alright. That sounds nice,” he says as they walk down the sidewalk to the alley. “I’m not sure anyone’s ever helped me put a salve on.”  
  
Percy glances warily at him before they turn into the alley. “I suppose I’m going to have to get used to you laughing about something like that.”  
  
“Laughing about it is better than crying about it,” Credence says with a smile. “I like taking care of myself, you know, and I doubt my injuries have ever been as bad as yours since I joined the wizarding world. But it’s nice to have someone that wants to help too.”  
  
“It is,” Percy agrees. “I do know what you mean, I like taking care of myself as well. Better than the infirmary at MACUSA.” He smiles wryly. “Ready?”  
  
Credence nods and they Disapparate out of the alley and appear next to Percy’s building. They walk inside and take the lift upstairs and Credence smiles when they walk down the hall to Percy’s door. It’s such a different world and it’s not so far away from his own.  
  
Maybe he really will get that apartment when this is all over.  
  
Credence takes his coat off and follows Percy into his bathroom. He raises his eyebrows when Percy opens a cabinet he had assumed carried toiletries but is mostly full of various salves, balms, creams, ointments and other concoctions.  
  
“Merlin,” he says. “You have your own infirmary.”  
  
“I really do not like the infirmary in MACUSA,” Percy says darkly as he grabs a tub and holds it up. “If I can do it myself I do.”  
  
“So you wander home injured from battles with Dark Arts practitioners just so you don’t have to go to the infirmary?” Credence asks with amusement as he pulls off his shirt and undershirt, setting them on the counter.  
  
“I write reports first at MACUSA detailing my injuries before I go home to take care of them,” Percy says with a smirk. “Unless they’re broken bones. Though that hasn’t happened in a while.”  
  
Credence shakes his head. “I could never do what you do,” he says. “Not just because my education wasn’t as extensive. I can’t imagine how quick you are with a wand.”  
  
Percy smiles. “A necessity if I want to stay alive. Which I do,” he says and gestures out to the bedroom.  
  
Credence walks into the bedroom and sits on the bed and smiles when Percy sits behind him. When he opens the tub, it smells like chamomile with the faint sweetness of cherries. The good kind of salve, Credence thinks idly, and closes his eyes when Percy rubs some onto his shoulders, digging his thumbs in now and then.  
  
“Feels good,” Credence says quietly.  
  
“You going to fall asleep?” Percy asks with a low chuckle.  
  
“I just might,” Credence sighs. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”  
  
“Very,” Percy says and puts more salve on his shoulder blades. He kisses Credence’s neck when he’s done and stands, walking into the bathroom to put the tub away and wash his hands.  
  
Credence watches him with a smile and stands to get out of his trousers before slipping back into Percy’s bed, sinfully soft and comfortable, lying down on his stomach. He feels Percy’s fingers in his hair and listens to him leave the bedroom.  
  
By the time Percy is getting into bed next to him, Credence is half asleep. Percy doesn’t seem to mind, merely kisses Credence, gently, and turns the light off. His arm around Credence’s back is warm and Credence feels safe, well taken care of, in a way he can’t remember experiencing.  
  
Any injuries he’d earned when he lived with Holt he was told to walk them off or fix them himself, if he could, and by the time he was an adult, Credence was self-sufficient and the idea of even asking anyone for help made him uneasy.  
  
It’s not that he’s injured often doing what he does, he really isn’t, and he doesn’t expect that to change, but he does like the idea of Percy soothing his aches earned from _Armando’s_ for however long he’s working there.  
  
Credence is asleep before his thoughts spiral much further than that.  
  
——  
  
Christmas with Percy is better than Christmas alone. Better than any Christmas Credence has had, better than reading by himself and wishing his friends didn’t drink all day, so he might be able to spend it with them.  
  
But Percy makes him breakfast, waffles and bacon and eggs, and gives him a series of books, stacked and wrapped with a red ribbon. He’s never even heard of them and Percy tells him they’re old, written by a witch a long time ago, but that he thinks Credence will enjoy them.  
  
He only kisses Credence when he mumbles about not having anything to give him and tells him his company is enough.  
  
Credence’s aches and pains are long gone but he aches in a different way. Not a way Percy can soothe, not a way he himself can soothe, so he distracts himself with sex, something he’s used to distract himself many, many times.  
  
It’s good with Percy, better than good, but the intimacy is different. The way Percy looks at him when he’s rocking into Credence, the way he kisses him, the way he makes it last, no urgency to finish, scares Credence.  
  
His attempts to make it less intimate, less personal, later in the evening before they have dinner, don’t go the way he wants. Percy is good at unraveling him in many different ways, even with a certain distance when they fuck, and Credence knows he’s going to have to slow the frequency in which they do if he wants to come out of this unscathed.  
  
Credence thinks he might cry when they eat dinner together, because it’s even more intimate than sex. But he stays over again all the same and Percy kisses him good night the same way he has the previous two nights they’ve spent together, and something as small as that, something developing into a routine, scares Credence too.  
  
He’s glad to go home in the morning, Percy off to work, and sleeps for a few hours. After he’s looked through the stack of books that are on his sofa, he walks downstairs and through Gnarlak’s office, into the bar.  
  
It won’t open for a few more hours and most people are back to work, but those that aren’t whistle suggestively at him until he gives them a rude hand gesture in return and they dissolve into laughter.  
  
Gnarlak is sitting at one of the tables, counting and organizing a large stack of Dragots, and Credence slumps into the seat across from him.  
  
“Mister Barebone decides to grace us with his presence,” Gnarlak says as he puffs on a cigar. “Christmas with Director Graves already, huh?”  
  
Credence shrugs. “I am very good at what I do,” he says and smiles when Gnarlak winks.  
  
“No one better,” he says. “You gonna start squeezing him soon?”  
  
Credence is glad that Gnarlak is patient enough to know he can’t yet. “What I can,” he says. “Soon enough.” He bites his lip as he looks at the shining stacks of coins. “Have interested parties decided what they want done with him?”  
  
Gnarlak shrugs as he slides a stack of ten Dragots to the other side of the table. “A day will come they’ll ask me to have you lower his guard,” he says. “Get him someplace. Ambush him. We ain’t got nobody so skilled in Legilimency to break into his mind but we’ll have enough on MACUSA by then for other, more important plans. Whether they ask for a ransom or whether they keep a hold of him for someone who might pay a bigger price to get access to his mind when we’ve finished our business… who knows?”  
  
Credence watches him as he speaks and hums, looking down at the table. “There are some people who would be very interested in his mind,” he says slowly. “For more than a payday with the information they might be able to sell.”  
  
“That’s right,” Gnarlak says with a wide smile. “Not anything I’m interested in. But no one knows the Dark Arts better than him. He’ll offer some answers if the right person comes along with the right amount of coin. Imagine what he must know about the Department of Mysteries. He ain’t no Unspeakable, but he’ll know things all the same, won’t he?”  
  
“He will,” Credence agrees. He picks up a Dragot from an uncounted pile and turns it over in his fingers. “This might not take a year.”  
  
“Movin’ quick?” Gnarlak asks and looks up at Credence. “Just because he’s head over heels doesn’t mean he’s spilling secrets anytime soon. You got the year, use it all.”  
  
Credence sighs as he puts the Dragot back. “I just don’t want to spend another Christmas with him.”  
  
“Well,” Gnarlak says and grins, “couldn’t have been all that bad.”  
  
“Not all of it,” Credence says and laughs. “I’m going to catch up on the reading I missed yesterday before work.”  
  
“How is the restaurant business, Mister Barebone?”  
  
“If I don’t throw myself out of the window in the next few months, I’ll let you know then,” Credence says dryly as he stands.  
  
Gnarlak snickers and flicks a Dragot at Credence. He catches it and smiles before leaving the bar and heading back upstairs to his apartment.  
  
Credence sits on his bed, pushed into the corner of the room so he can look out of the window when he reads. It’s grey and drab outside but there’s no snowstorm to watch. He sighs and picks the first book he had started reading from the series Percy had given him.  
  
That might have been the best part, Credence thinks idly. Legs tangled together, reading their own books, the fireplace roaring, with glasses of hot cider to enjoy. Quiet and peaceful and comfortable, most of all, and Credence thinks about Percy’s face, whenever he’d glanced over his book at him.  
  
One day that face is going to look different. One day he’s going to know and Credence doesn’t know if he’ll be there or not, but he’s not entirely sure he’ll handle it well.  
  
Because if he spends another Christmas with Percy, he worries he might be in love with him by then. If everything keeps going the way it has been, Credence thinks he will be in love with him before this winter is even over.  
  
He doesn’t know how to stop that. If he pulls away, Percy will wonder why, and he can’t get any work done if he puts distance between them. There are no flaws he can focus on, not that he’s seen yet, to maybe build up resentment instead of love.  
  
Percy’s perfect, he’s already told him that, and he’d meant it.  
  
The idea of telling Gnarlak the truth hits him but he dismisses that as quickly as it had come. That would make Credence bendable, it would put holes in his armor, it would mean he bleeds easily, and when someone bleeds easily, they can’t be trusted to withstand what the job asks for.  
  
It’s a mess, Credence thinks, but he’s gotten himself out of messes more times than he can count. He’ll figure out a way to protect himself.  
  
He has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Credence: I totally got this
> 
> Credence, .5 seconds later: I totally don't got this
> 
> I told my friend I never thought I'd write a character with Ron Perlman's voice in mind but here we are. I know this is different but I hope you enjoy it all the same.


	2. Chapter 2

Once the holidays have gone and the world becomes a little less hectic, Credence and Percy see each other more regularly.   
  
Credence goes home with him on Saturday nights and Percy takes Sunday mornings off, with only a few mutters about certain people making it difficult for him, but Credence understands it to mean they’re teasing him, versus anything that actually affects his work.   
  
They take lunches together on Wednesdays, sometimes in MACUSA and sometimes outside of it, and Percy leaves work around six those evenings too, so they might be able to spend them together.   
  
But sometimes Percy asks him to stay another night and Credence can never say no, but thankfully Percy hasn’t asked him to stay  _ every _ night.   
  
When January is ending, Percy tells Credence he can stay on Sundays, if he wants, until he gets home from work. Credence accepts that, merely because it gives him time alone in Percy’s apartment, but he won’t pry yet. Percy is an Auror and that means being careful being in places he shouldn’t be, like examining the boxes on the top shelf of his closet or going into his office, which is always locked.   
  
Credence will one day, but not this soon.   
  
He asks Percy about MACUSA when the opportunity is given to him and sometimes Percy tells him in detail how things work and sometimes he merely glosses over it, keeping the finer details a mystery, but that doesn’t mean Credence can’t try again later.   
  
Gnarlak seems to find it very interesting that Percy’s fireplace in his apartment floos directly into his office and when Credence points out that his office is in the Auror Department, Gnarlak merely says there are ways to get Aurors out of MACUSA.   
  
Credence sincerely hopes he never has to aid a break-in into MACUSA because of the severe risk to all of them for doing so. Gnarlak shrugs when Credence mentions that and reminds Credence he has access to Percy’s DNA, if they ever needed it.   
  
He has an episode of panic that night, for the first time in years, because Gnarlak seems to have been thinking of this from the start, while Credence hadn’t, had assumed they’d be doing this with as little risk as possible, and Gnarlak won’t give him a straight answer on if they’re going to break into MACUSA one day or not. That one of them might be wearing Percy’s face while they do it.   
  
Credence is inclined to think Gnarlak is bullshitting him for the fun of it, but he can’t be sure.   
  
By mid-February there have been no more mentions of it.   
  
Percy takes Credence out for breakfast one Sunday morning, to a cafe they both enjoy, and when they get there, they’re surprised to see a line.   
  
“Why is it so fucking busy?” Percy mutters after they’ve been waiting almost fifteen minutes just to get inside.   
  
They’re on a wizarding street outside of Manhattan, thankfully, because Credence has to get warm with a wave of his wand.   
  
Credence smiles and thinks Percy probably doesn’t wait anywhere, for anything outside of his work. “Maybe people are just in the mood for pancakes today,” he says with a shrug. “It’s more affordable here than  _ Francois’.” _   
  
“I like _ Francois’,” _ Percy says. “Some of the best coffee in Manhattan.”   
  
“Definitely not worth the six Dragots it costs to get a single pot of coffee,” Credence says and smiles when Percy shrugs. “Their blueberry muffins were four Dragots. Not everything is better because it’s expensive, you know.”   
  
“In some cases, yes,” Percy says. “In other cases, not so much.”   
  
Credence rolls his eyes. “The best winter coat I’ve ever had in my life cost me two Dragots.”   
  
“Can’t be the one you’re wearing if you have to keep using your wand to find any warmth.”   
  
“It’s not,” Credence says with a laugh. “I lost it when I was out one night. Never saw it again.”   
  
Percy moves his arm around Credence’s waist. “I can take you to Anita’s, you know. Her work lasts forever.”   
  
“Is that why you’re there every few months?” Credence asks dryly.   
  
“I’m there every few months because I don’t like wearing the same things every year,” Percy says and smirks when Credence sighs. “And to repair the damage criminals inflict occasionally.”   
  
“I can’t believe I’m seeing a Pureblood snob.”   
  
“You have enjoyed plenty of the perks that comes with seeing a Pureblood snob.”   
  
“You do order some really good take-out sometimes. And I do like the view from your apartment.”   
  
“Two… magnificent reasons to see me,” Percy says wryly but he’s smiling when Credence laughs. He kisses Credence’s cheek. “It’s about Merlin damned time,” he adds darkly when they’re able to step inside.   
  
They both stop and look around the cafe.   
  
“Oh no,” Credence mumbles.   
  
“Fuck,” Percy sighs.   
  
“We can go somewhere else.”   
  
“I did not wait twenty minutes in the cold to go somewhere else,” Percy says as he glares at the various lace and paper decorations floating through the air.   
  
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” a hostess greets them cheerfully and mistakes their grimaces for smiles. “Right this way, you two!”   
  
When they’ve been sat at a table that’s covered in more white lace, hearts of different shapes and varieties cut into it, a bundle of red roses in a small vase in the middle of the table, and a floating lamp above them in the shape of a bow and arrow that twists ominously between them, Percy looks at Credence.   
  
“This place is dead to me,” he says.   
  
Credence laughs and covers his face. He grins when he looks at Percy. “I think it’s safe to say neither of us have celebrated Valentine’s Day before,” he says and laughs more. “You didn’t even in Ilvermorny?”   
  
“Once,” Percy says as he glances up at the arrow when it points at him. “And only because Sera made me do doubles because she was too nervous to go alone.”   
  
“How old were you?” Credence asks with a smile, resting his chin on his hand.   
  
“Fifteen,” Percy says and sighs. “I would have taken advantage of the castle being empty but she insisted. Horrible experience. Wouldn’t have been so bad if you were the one sitting across from me though.”   
  
Credence huffs a little, his cheeks warm. “I can’t even believe you were a teenager at some point. Let alone knowing you when you were,” he says. “You were popular in Ilvermorny, weren’t you?”   
  
Percy laughs. “I was well known, not popular,” he says. “I had as few friends then as I do now.”   
  
“What made you so well known then?”   
  
Percy looks like he’s debating how to answer that. “I was an exceptional student,” he says. “I earned a lot of accolades while in school.”   
  
“Like what?”   
  
“Special services to the school. I formed and ran a Duelling Club that’s still going to this day, earned a trophy for that one,” Percy says and looks mildly uncomfortable. “Spent most of my time with my nose in a book otherwise.”   
  
Credence smiles and he doesn’t know why Percy is uncomfortable. He’s usually not so humble about his achievements. “No Quidditch for you?” he asks lightly, because he doesn’t want to pry.   
  
“No,” Percy chuckles. “I was never interested in Quidditch. I’m still not but that’s probably because I’ve dealt with the nightmare of a World Cup in America one too many times.”   
  
“Security?” Credence asks and laughs when Percy nods. “Yeah, I can see that being a nightmare. I never really liked Quidditch either. Probably because I never went to Ilvermorny though.”   
  
A waitress comes by and they order coffee and breakfast, shooting down her offers to  _ add a little of Cupid’s touch _ to their food, whatever in Merlin’s name that means.   
  
The coffee is good though, always brewed strong and well, better still when Credence puts cream and sugar in his.   
  
“I read an interesting article in the paper on Friday,” Credence says as they wait for their food. “By Gibbon Coil.”   
  
Percy’s smile is thin. “He does write very interesting articles,” he says. “His opinion piece on Unspeakables?”   
  
Credence nods. “Mhmm,” he hums. “Was any of it true? The things he said they do? Experiments on the human brain or creating dangerous magical objects just to see if it’s possible?”   
  
“It’s called the Department of Mysteries for a reason, you know.”   
  
“I do,” Credence says easily. “And yet I’ve got a feeling it’s not so mysterious to you.”   
  
Percy shrugs. “More than you’d think,” he says. “It’s not my department, Credence,” he adds with a laugh when Credence only raises his eyebrows. “But some things they have to tell me about, yes. Ways that magic can be used that  _ will _ eventually be found out by people who won’t destroy or lock it away where no one can get to it. Dark wizards, if they’re powerful enough, can find resources similar to what they use down there. We’re lucky dark wizards powerful enough to do so don’t come around very often.”   
  
Credence nods in agreement. “What’s something they’ve told you about that you encountered in the field one day? Has it happened?”   
  
“Yes,” Percy says quietly. “Only twice. We’d gotten a tip about powerful magic being used to create certain types of mirrors. They made a few different ones downstairs. One could trap a person inside it. That’s what I found in the field.”   
  
“A mirror that could trap a person inside,” Credence repeats. “How did you get them out?”   
  
“There was no getting them out,” Percy says grimly. “But they hadn’t perfected the magic yet. Only three mirrors were made and the unfortunate wizards they practiced with were dead. We could see their bodies but we couldn’t retrieve them. Kept it out of the press,” he adds when Credence gapes at him. “Not a good story and not magic that needs to be known.”   
  
“Why would they even make something like that?” Credence asks, hushed.   
  
Percy shrugs. “They were large mirrors,” he says. “But we found designs for handheld ones. Easily trapping people in a mirror they could never escape could be useful in certain circles. The idea was to have communication with the trapped individual and most likely the promise of freedom that would never come.”   
  
Credence grimaces and takes a drink of his coffee. “They’d just let them rot in there after?”   
  
“Shatter the mirror, is what the notes said,” Percy says and smiles a little, when Credence stares at him. “Dark Arts advance far beyond Unforgivable Curses.”   
  
“That’s horrible,” Credence says, because it really is.   
  
His work deals in theft, smuggling, intimidation and extortions, sometimes in death, but mostly in information. The people he knows, that he works for, are gangsters.   
  
They’re not practitioners of Dark Arts, circles they prefer to stay away from.   
  
Their food is delivered to them and neither of them complain about the heart shaped pancakes.   
  
“What was the other one?” Credence asks quietly and picks up a piece of bacon, taking a bite of it.   
  
“Something the Unspeakables told my department about a long time ago. Directors have access to the notes previous Directors have left behind from conversations with them,” Percy says as he pours hot syrup onto his own pancakes. “They expected someday for someone to try and design an object to mimic a Dementor’s greatest power.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “Taking souls?” he asks and works through his bacon, trying not to feel queasy.   
  
“Yes,” Percy says. “They succeeded too. But it wasn’t well known at the time, even in their circles. We were told early on by an informant and had been looking for them for some time. When we found them, they’d managed it twice and were likely preparing to price the knowledge of how they’d done it when we came down on them. Unspeakables took what they’d created and likely studied it before destroying it.”   
  
Credence takes a bite of his eggs and furrows his brow. “What the hell do you do with people like that after you arrest them?”   
  
“Interrogate until there’s nothing else to find,” Percy says. “They’re executed, rather than sent to prison.” He smiles grimly again, when Credence wrinkles his nose. “If we Obliviated them and threw them in prison, we risk the chance of someone figuring out how to undo Obliviations one day and finding sensitive information like that.”   
  
“Do you think someone will ever find a way to undo an Obliviation?” Credence asks. “They say it’s as permanent as death is.”   
  
“When you’ve got practitioners of Dark Arts finding out how to take someone’s soul with a small object, you tend to believe anything might happen someday,” Percy says with a smile. He cuts his pancakes and takes a bite, waving his fork at Credence. “Don’t ask me more, I can see it ruining your breakfast.”   
  
Credence huffs a small laugh and shrugs. “I guess I just didn’t realize the lengths people will go to hurt people that aren't with a wave of a wand,” he says and takes a bite of his breakfast, peering at Percy. “You have to worry about these things too. When you or your Aurors are out in the field.”   
  
“I do,” Percy says. “We all do. You’re right, that it’s more than wands we have to be wary of.”   
  
Credence’s heart feels like it’s been squeezed then, in an unpleasant and painful sort of way. He looks at his food and eats a few more bites and thinks that it feels something like terror.   
  
He knows Percy mostly spends his days in his office, but he also knows Percy faces down the worst of the worst, because he is the best in defense. He knows that Percy can die any day that he goes to work, that’s something he’s known from the start, but it always seems so unlikely and he’s kept it tucked away.   
  
He thinks he might be an idiot for not realizing that Percy faces down far more evil than he’d ever thought about. That dark witches and wizards are out there creating magical objects like these purely for the destruction of a person, Aurors included, if they got their hands on them.   
  
That Percy might die in such a way.   
  
One day someone is going to break into Percy’s mind and find these things. Find the things that Credence suspects Percy won’t tell him about. The things that haven’t been made yet, but that Unspeakables have warned the Auror department they may encounter someday. He even has knowledge of how some things are made, perhaps more than Credence knows but perhaps not. It’s still incredibly valuable information to the right people.   
  
Credence looks at Percy, who is peering at him with some concern, and smiles. “I’m fine,” he says. “Just realizing people are more evil than I thought and that maybe heart-shaped pancakes aren’t so bad.”   
  
Percy laughs. “You know,” he sighs, “you might be right about that.”   
  
Credence smiles as he watches Percy drink his coffee and eat his breakfast and tries not to think about the day he’ll be broken, body and mind, and how he will know Credence is the reason for it.   
  
——   
  
Gnarlak finds the information that Percy told Credence to be of particular interest. He mentions that there are people who will already find the information useful and tells Credence he’s doing well.   
  
To keep it up.   
  
Credence does, whenever he has the opportunity to. When Percy mentions something that went on at MACUSA, Credence asks him more questions about it, and Percy tells him easily enough.   
  
When Credence asks what floor the Auror Department is on, it seems only natural to ask what floor the Department of Mysteries is on. But Percy doesn’t say much more about Unspeakables, not anything that’s privileged information, and, Credence suspects, he doesn’t know more than what’s in the book somewhere in his office anyway.   
  
Credence tells Percy one day, in mid-March, that he’d like to see his office. That he’d like to see where he spends his days, and on one Sunday morning, after they’ve eaten breakfast, Percy says he’d like to show him around MACUSA while he has the time.   
  
Credence gladly accepts.   
  
Percy’s office, just one jump through the fireplace, is large and not quite what he’d been expecting. The desk and fireplace, with a couple of armchairs nearby, are comfortable, but the multitude of closed doors and shelves along the walls, dark in color and with a precise, sharp design, are somewhat cold and clinical. It does fit though.   
  
He can’t expect the Director’s office to be a place of comfort.   
  
Percy takes him out into the Auror department and Credence sees some of his Aurors for the first time, sitting at their own desks and working. He introduces Credence to men named Barrows and Fontaine, two of his Captains, and Credence is reasonably familiar with Fontaine.   
  
They have drinks together on Friday and whenever Percy mentions him, it’s with some kind of caustic remark that Credence is familiar enough with to know that they’re fond of each other, in the way men who can’t speak about feelings are fond of each other.   
  
Fontaine merely mutters  _ finally _ when he shakes Credence’s hand and mentions getting dinner with him and his wife Eldora one of these days.   
  
Credence knew meeting Percy’s friends would happen one day but the idea of going to dinner with an Auror and his wife and acting like he’s in love with Percy and planning on sticking around for a while is overwhelming.   
  
At least one of those things is true and whenever Credence looks at Percy and feels his heart leap, feels it skip a beat, and feels warmth in his chest, he fears the other might be true as well.   
  
Thankfully Percy ushers him out of the office and through MACUSA. He’s been here to eat lunch with Percy in the cafeteria, but Percy shows him around the different floors and departments. Most of it is interesting, sometimes fascinating, depending on what, exactly, the department is.   
  
There are a few bangs and whizzes coming from the Misuse of Magic department, so they skip over that one, but the Magical Games and Sports department is more than just where people work. It’s a small museum. There are some old brooms on display, from hundreds of years ago, and copies of the drawings of the Golden Snitch’s first design, when it had moved on from live birds, and the rest of the balls used in the game, from the oldest design to the newest.   
  
Mister Ibex, the head of the department, is a man that likes to talk, but Percy is a man that knows how to get people to shut up, and Credence only has to endure his frankly confusing explanation of the drama currently happening between a few American Quidditch teams for a short while.   
  
Percy tells him he announces the World Cup when it’s in America, which has been a handful of times, considering his age, and that he’s more skilled at that than any other conversation.   
  
The owlery is interesting to Credence, taking up an entire lengthy wall of MACUSA, separated by departments. The doors are thick to prevent the smell from leaking out and Percy shows him into the Auror department’s owlery. It’s designed nicely, with many cubbys for the owls, filled with fresh straw daily and quite a few water and treat stations, for when the owls aren’t out hunting. There are two windows, one labeled  _ out _ and the other  _ in, _ open at all times, but thankfully spring is nearly here and it’s not quite so freezing.   
  
“Brooks is the quickest,” Percy says as he points at a grey owl only a foot above them, who has his tail feathers turned toward them. “Which means I have to work with him often, unfortunately.”   
  
Credence laughs. “What did the owl do to you?”   
  
Percy sighs. “If he’s not pretending he’s dead, I have to bribe him or threaten to sanction him to do anything,” he says, a bit loudly. “He’s lucky I haven’t fired him. I was thinking about going to Dragon Street and seeing if any hatchlings show any promise. He’s getting old.”   
  
Brooks’ head turns and he peers down at Percy, one eye half closed, in something like a glare, and Percy gestures at him.   
  
“The selective hearing is another strike against him.”   
  
Credence laughs. “You have a nemesis in an owl,” he says and looks up at Brooks, who glares reproachfully at him as well. “I think he’s handsome. Definitely not old.”   
  
Brooks hoots and turns around, peering down at Credence with more interest.   
  
“Don’t you make friends with him or I’ll consider you a traitor,” Percy says and wraps his arm around Credence’s waist. “You’ll see him at my place someday and see how he tortures me.”   
  
“He’s very rude, isn’t he?” Credence asks Brooks, reaching up tentatively toward him. Brooks nips at his sleeve, in an affectionate sort of way, and Credence scratches his cheek when he presents it. “Don’t worry, Director Graves is very rude to me too.”   
  
Percy sighs. “Traitor. Should throw you in the cells downstairs,” he says, but he’s kissing Credence’s neck, so he mustn’t be too bothered.   
  
Credence laughs and scratches Brooks again before looking at Percy and kissing him. “Come on, stop being mean to the poor owls,” he says. “Bending me over your desk would be a much more fitting punishment, you know.”   
  
“You are… absolutely right,” Percy says and squeezes below Credence’s waist as they walk to the door and out of the owlery.   
  
The air is much more refreshing in the large hall and Credence is about to suggest heading back to Percy’s office, but he nearly runs into a woman who is distracted talking to another woman.   
  
“Ah,” Percy says. “Goldstein and Goldstein.”   
  
“Oh, hello, Mister Graves,” the dark-haired woman says a bit breathlessly. “Hemlock said you came in early today.” She glances at Credence with some interest.   
  
“Showing my guest around the place,” Percy says with a wink. “You sending off that summons to Mister Holland?”   
  
Credence looks at the woman next to Miss Goldstein, blonde and pretty, with a dimpled smile. She looks from her sister to Credence and Credence feels the touch to his mind, and his walls are thrown up before he’s even realized she’d been attempting to read his mind.   
  
But she only raises her eyebrows as she continues to smile at him.   
  
“Oh, right, this is Queenie, my sister. She works downstairs,” Miss Goldstein says when she looks at Credence. “I’m Tina Goldstein.”   
  
“Oh, umm… nice to meet you both,” Credence says and his heart is racing. He avoids looking at Queenie, feeling defensive and wanting to demand why in the world she’d been trying to read his thoughts, but he can’t. “I’m Credence.”   
  
“Nice to meet you too, Credence,” Queenie says brightly. “How’d you two meet, honey?”   
  
Credence glances warily at Percy.   
  
He merely smiles. “By lucky chance,” he says. “Get back to work,” he tells Tina. “I’ll be on the clock soon. Queenie, don’t you have Sundays off?”   
  
“Sure do,” Queenie says. “But it’s almost lunch and I thought I’d spend it with Teenie.”   
  
Percy doesn’t look like he believes her but he doesn’t say anything, merely nods. “Stay out of my department,” he warns her, but she only grins cheekily, and then Percy is leading him back down the hall.   
  
Credence blinks to himself for a while and it’s not until they’ve taken the lift back to the Auror department that he feels safe enough to relax. “Why’d you tell her to stay out of your department?”   
  
“Expert Legilimens,” Percy says. He smiles when Credence gapes at him. “Natural talent, not learned. She can’t help it, for the most part, and I do not need her in my department with Aurors who are still in training with Occlumency. Tina’s good at keeping her out, she grew up with her, but I nearly didn’t hire her because of her sister. She was forthcoming with me about her ability though and she’s proven to be a talented Auror.”   
  
Credence nods and feels slightly more relaxed, but only slightly. The idea that Queenie Goldstein may tell Tina or Percy himself that she’d felt him protect himself is a worrying one. He could explain it to Percy, he thinks, but it’s not something he ever wanted to.   
  
Percy’s never tried to read his mind and when Credence lies, he does so with skill, and Percy’s never seemed to read anything but truth from him. Percy is immensely skilled himself, far more than Credence, but he’s not expecting Credence to lie to him.   
  
There’s an hour left before Percy would normally leave the apartment to come here but Credence finds he’s not particularly in any sort of mood when they get back into Percy’s office.   
  
Percy must realize it because he doesn’t bring it up, merely sits in one of the armchairs and Credence takes the other.   
  
“Are you alright, love?”   
  
Credence smiles. “Yes,” he says. “Just thinking about how big this place actually is.”   
  
“A maze until you get used to it,” Percy chuckles. “You know you could work here, if you wanted to.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “In MACUSA? Doing what?”   
  
Percy shrugs. “There are a lot of clerical positions. On the job training in some departments,” he says and smiles. “You hate  _ Armando’s.” _   
  
“I suppose I do,” Credence says with a tired smile, thinking about the restaurant he’s due at tomorrow night. “It’s hard to believe I’ve been there three months. Feels like a lifetime.”   
  
_ It feels like a lifetime with you too, _ he thinks, but doesn’t dare say.   
  
“You’re good at what you do and I know the pay isn’t bad,” Percy says. “But you might enjoy it here more. Working with your peers and not serving high society. You wouldn’t have to work until half past eleven either.”   
  
Credence laughs. “Keep going and you might just convince me.”   
  
“We could have lunch every day that I’m available,” Percy says with a smirk. “And you can still work part time, if the position is open for it. And if it’s not, I can change that.”   
  
“I’m not letting you bully anyone into giving me a job the exact way I want it,” Credence tsks. “You can put in a good word but that’s it.”   
  
“Fair enough,” Percy says and smiles. “Didn’t Mister Ibex mention he was looking for a new assistant?”   
  
Credence squints. “Merlin, I can’t remember half of what he said,” he mutters and smiles when Percy nods in wry agreement. “It almost seems like working with him could be worse than  _ Armando’s.” _   
  
“Could be. You could also meet some very interesting people. You’d help him organize certain games and matches, get permits in order. Go to pitches and meet famous Quidditch or other sports players. See a match here and there. It’d keep you from being in an office all day long,” Percy says and shrugs. “Just a thought.”   
  
“I don’t have any qualifications for any of that,” Credence laughs.   
  
“You didn’t for  _ Armando’s _ either.”   
  
“Yeah, but that’s easy work,” Credence says and grins. “Mister Ibex’s assistant would be an entirely different world.”   
  
Percy hums. “You seem to adapt very well to just about everything,” he says and shrugs when Credence frowns. “You do. You learned how to adapt at a young age. You still do it well. But it’s just a thought. I’m more than happy to keep coming by and watching you try not to curse high society into oblivion on Saturday nights.”   
  
Credence chuckles. “I am pushed closer to it every day, I think,” he says and looks down at his lap with a smile. “It does sound like an interesting job. You’re sure there are no positions open in the Department of Mysteries?”   
  
“Well,” Percy sighs, “if there are, it’s a mystery to me.”   
  
Credence smiles and shakes his head. “I’ll think about it,” he says. “For a day or two. I imagine there are perks to working at MACUSA.”   
  
“Some, certainly,” Percy says with a smile. “Let me know and I’ll put in that good word.  _ And _ keep my hands out of it otherwise,” he adds dryly when Credence quirks an eyebrow.   
  
“Thank you,” Credence says and smiles. He stands and moves in front of Percy, leaning down so he can kiss him. “You’re too good to me,” he says softly when he pulls back, sliding his hands down over Percy’s chest, until he feels his heartbeat under his palm.   
  
“I’m the right amount of good to you. Same as you are to me,” Percy says and moves his fingers through Credence’s hair as he gazes at him. “Seeing you happy is a priority of mine, Credence.”   
  
“I know,” Credence says with a faint smile, leaning in and kissing Percy, just once more, before he stands straight and turns toward the fireplace. “I am happy. And it would be nice to not be so tired all the time. I’m going to sit on the sofa and read a little and think about it.”   
  
“Alright, love,” Percy chuckles. “I’ll see you this evening. You want anything particular for dinner?”   
  
Credence narrows his eyes. “Italian,” he says. “If you want it too.”   
  
“I am always ready for Italian food,” Percy says and stands. He kisses Credence’s cheek and walks to his desk, looking over a stack of what must be reports. “See you around six.”   
  
“See you then,” Credence says and floos into Percy’s apartment.   
  
He stands in the living room for a while, looking around it, and doesn’t know why his heart aches as much as it does. It hurts, in a way he hopes to never feel again, but it also aches in a way he hopes never stops.   
  
Credence looks at Percy’s sofa, out of the windows that they both love so dearly, and bites his lip. He kicks his shoes off and grabs his book from the end table on the way to the bedroom. He climbs into bed and grabs Percy’s pillow, pulling it close and holding onto it.   
  
It’s only been three months and he feels like the first part of his job is done. Getting Percy fond of him, getting Percy to open up to him, open his home. It feels like taking a job at MACUSA, where he has access to the building itself, while most people Gnarlak is associated with don’t.   
  
Gnarlak will be happy about it. He’ll tell Credence to take the job, to see if he can squeeze anything out of anyone else there while he’s at it, while still working Percy himself. It feels like the next stage of their relationship and the next stage of his work, which means it’s moving as it should.   
  
Credence breathes in the scent of Percy’s shampoo and soap, of his aftershave, and squeezes his eyes shut.   
  
There will be no potion or spell to fix this.   
  
Credence idly thinks about sleeping with someone else and is promptly horrified by the mere thought of it.   
  
Percy has ruined him in many different ways, most of them sublime, and Credence thinks he needs to find a way out of this, before Percy ruins him in a way he won’t recover from.   
  
Before Percy devastates Credence as much as Credence will devastate Percy.   
  
——   
  
Gnarlak tells Credence to take the job, when he goes home on Monday, and Credence tells Percy on Tuesday, when they’re having lunch together, that he’d like to.   
  
It feels good to hand in his resignation at  _ Armando’s _ and his coworkers seem disappointed, but Credence is not who they think he is. Only Felix knows and he shakes his hand and tells him he’ll see him around, because he certainly will, someday.   
  
Credence meets with Mister Ibex for an interview and stumbles his way through it, but Mister Ibex isn’t rude. He merely tells Credence he’s come highly recommended and though it’s clear that’s not from any actual experience in the job or in magical sports at all, it means Director Graves has seen potential in him. And if Director Graves has seen potential in him, he must trust it. Credence wants to tell him not to hire him then, because he’d rather get the job on his own, but he doesn’t. If Percy didn’t think Credence was capable of the work, he wouldn’t have even told him about the position.   
  
Percy values working hard and talent, he values on the job training because so much of his own department deals in it, and he’s confident Credence will do well.   
  
And Credence has been told to take the job anyway.   
  
A week later, he starts work, and it’s a full time position, with two days off a week, and quite a lot of perks from MACUSA. Percy adjusts his schedule to match Credence’s, taking a half day off on Tuesday morning and coming home early Wednesdays still.   
  
Despite the stress of learning a new job, Credence falls into a routine two weeks in, and getting to see Percy everyday at lunch certainly helps. He’s in meetings with the President now and then or out in the city - or out of the state entirely - sometimes, but it’s not often. By the first of April, Percy tells Credence he’s welcome in his home.   
  
To get out of the shithole apartment he’s only been in twice, thank Merlin, and live with him. To see each other every day, even if Percy will almost always be at work earlier and later than him, to sleep in the same bed every night, to share their lives together.   
  
Credence gives Gnarlak the key to the other apartment and smiles when he chuckles and says  _ well done, Mister Barebone. _   
  
He’ll still have his own apartment, the one above the speakeasy, for whenever he needs a moment to breathe, but he moves most of clothes and books and a few other small things into Percy’s apartment.   
  
Spring has finally come, shaking loose the cold hands of winter, and though the days aren’t quite warm yet and the nights are still chilly, it’s fresh and the city feels more alive. The trees in Central park begin to wake up and there’s a splash of color here and there from flowers in shop windows.   
  
Percy conjures a fresh bundle of flowers every few days in a vase on the coffee table, always when Credence is asleep, so he might see them when he’s getting ready to go to work himself.   
  
At the end of the second week that Credence has been living with Percy, trying not to feel like an intruder every day, for more than one reason, he sits down with Percy at the dining table for dinner.   
  
They’d made chicken piccata together, because it had been served at  _ Armando’s  _ shortly before Credence had quit and they both liked it. They’ve even done well making it, Credence thinks, after the first few bites.   
  
“I was in Records today,” Percy says as he grabs his tumbler of whiskey. He swirls it and takes a drink as he looks at Credence. “Ran into Queenie Goldstein.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “Oh?” he asks and feels his heart begin to beat a bit faster. “Did you have to tell her to stay out of your department again?”   
  
“I always tell her that,” Percy says with a dry smile. “I’ve been busy enough working and spending time with you that I haven’t run into her lately. I interviewed her,” he adds when Credence frowns. “I feel a certain sort of responsibility for her place in MACUSA. It didn’t take long to trust her but a lot of people move through MACUSA with privileged information in their heads and I like to make sure she hasn’t walked away with some of it.”   
  
Credence takes a bite of his dinner and looks down at his plate, because he knows where this is going. But Percy doesn’t sound upset. “Did she walk away with privileged information?”   
  
Percy hums. “No,” he says. “Because the privileged information I’ve put in your head didn’t make it out of it.”   
  
Credence looks at Percy then, biting his lip, and doesn’t quite know what to say.   
  
Percy looks at him as well with a faint smile. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve had training in Occlumency?”   
  
He doesn’t know if it’s fair to be a little annoyed with Queenie Goldstein or not, but Credence is annoyed all the same that she’d brought it up with Percy. She probably did assuming he knew about it. Or maybe she did it because she assumed he didn’t. It doesn’t really matter, Credence decides.   
  
“Because it sounds bad,” Credence says truthfully as he pushes a piece of chicken around on his plate. He looks at Percy and smiles. “Most people don’t need to know anything about Occlumency unless their jobs require it.” He gestures at Percy. “The man who adopted me who knew so much better than any Ilvermorny professor was a paranoid person. He thought I should know it, to protect myself. Like someday someone might break in and find out what I know about fish markets or the restaurant business or maybe his own extremely strong views on wizarding schools. He never told me how he knew the magic. I never really wanted to know either.”   
  
Percy gazes at him for a while and takes another drink of his whiskey. “How long did he teach you?”   
  
“Pretty much from twelve to the day before I turned seventeen,” Credence says with a wan smile. “Often. Daily, almost, the last few years, once I got over how traumatizing it was to learn it.”   
  
“He didn’t impart his knowledge of Legilimency on you?”   
  
“No,” Credence says. “Like I said, he was paranoid. I might have used it on him one day, for all he knew.”   
  
Percy doesn’t say anything for some time, eating more of his dinner. “Who was this man?” he finally asks as he looks at Credence.   
  
“He wasn’t a good person, Percy,” Credence says. “I left the day I turned seventeen for a reason. I told you I never looked back.”   
  
“You did,” Percy says quietly and leans back in his chair, frowning as he watches Credence. “I’m sorry, Credence. For the people you experienced before you became your own person.”   
  
“Please don’t be sorry,” Credence says and looks down at the table. His stomach is churning unpleasantly. “It was a long time ago, there’s no point in being sorry.”   
  
“I’m always going to regret you weren’t treated the way you deserved to be,” Percy says gently. “But I am thankful we found each other. And I understand why you don’t want to talk about things that are in the past, but please know that I’m never going to worry about it sounding bad, if you want to talk. I don’t want you to feel the need to hide anything because you’re worried what I’ll think of you.”   
  
Credence rubs his hand over his forehead. “I know you have things you don’t like to talk about from your past. It’s the same for me. Sometimes it’s better to keep the past in the past,” he says quietly. “I lived in the past for too long. I like living in the present now. I’m not hiding things, really, I only don’t see why they matter anymore.”   
  
“I understand that, for the most part,” Percy says. “But I would’ve preferred to know about Occlumency training, of all things, from you rather than Miss Goldstein.”   
  
“It seems to me she should have minded her own business,” Credence mutters. “Why’d she even bring it up?”   
  
“She only mentioned your walls were nearly as impressive as mine and she hadn’t expected you to start in Mister Ibex’s department, but with my own instead,” Percy says carefully. “She didn’t mean any harm, Credence.”   
  
Credence sighs and drags his hands through his hair. “Yeah, okay. Sorry,” he says and grabs his glass of pomegranate juice. He finishes it and stands, taking his plate to the sink.   
  
“Credence—”   
  
“Give me a couple minutes, okay? I’m fine,” Credence says. “I’m sorry. I just hate remembering this.” He vanishes what he didn’t eat and leaves the kitchen, walking back to their bedroom. He sits on his side of the bed and holds his head in his hands.   
  
And, for the first time, Credence thinks he can’t do this.   
  
Percy trusts him, wholly and completely, believes everything he said, will always believe Credence. Will always tell Credence he deserved better, will always tell Credence he’s thankful for him, will never believe Credence has any other intentions for him than what he’s shown him.   
  
In less than two weeks, they’ll have known each other for five months.   
  
Credence doesn’t hate remembering his time with Holt. He learned what he needed to survive in the world he worked in, after all, but he hates remembering that this isn’t real. That it can’t be real, because it won’t last, and it will change one day.   
  
With how fast these five months have gone by, the day it changes will be here before he knows it.   
  
But he can’t do this for another five months. He’s starting to be stretched thin, his nerves fraying at the edges, and there’s no way he can put distance between them.   
  
There is no way he can get a break from this.   
  
Credence has gotten good information out of Percy. He reports everything he learns to Gnarlak, but Gnarlak hasn’t said it’s enough yet, and Credence knows he won’t for a while. They might know some of MACUSA’s innerworkings, some of its secrets, but whatever certain parties are interested in, he hasn’t gotten enough yet for them.   
  
He hears Percy’s footsteps and feels his hands on his knees. Credence looks at Percy, kneeling in front of him, his brow furrowed.   
  
“I’m sorry, Credence, I shouldn’t have—”   
  
“Please,” Credence says and he’s mortified there are tears in his voice, in his eyes, as he reaches forward and grasps the material of Percy’s shirt in his hand.  _ “Please  _ stop fucking saying you’re sorry.”   
  
Percy watches Credence and looks torn between concern and anger. But he’s not angry with Credence. “Alright, Credence,” he says quietly. “I’m going to clean up the kitchen. Let me know if you need anything.” He stands and brushes his fingers across Credence’s jaw as he walks away.   
  
Credence looks down at the ground and sniffs, wiping his nose.   
  
He feels like an idiot for running away, but he thinks if Percy keeps telling him how sorry he is and how much Credence deserves, he’s not going to stop himself from blurting it all out. Percy wouldn’t feel so generous then, he knows, and sighs to himself.   
  
He needs a vacation. Or at least something to take the edge off.   
  
_ This is what drives people to drink,  _ Credence thinks with some bitterness.   
  
Credence stands and pulls his shirt off. He steps out of his trousers and underclothes and slips into bed, looking at the windows across from him. It’s almost dark outside, the sun staying in the sky longer each night, and he wishes his days felt longer, but they don’t. They've been moving by too quickly.   
  
“Percy?”   
  
“Yes, love?” Percy calls from the kitchen.   
  
Credence can hear plates clinking against each other as they’re put away. “I need something.”   
  
“What’s that?”   
  
“You.”   
  
Percy walks into the bedroom then and Credence looks at him, biting his lip as he sees Percy’s eyebrows raise.   
  
“Please.”   
  
“Credence…”   
  
“I’m sorry. I got a little mixed up. I want to feel you,” Credence says. “Please. If… if you want to, I mean.”   
  
Percy shakes his head. “You’re never going to have to worry about that. I’m always going to want you,” he sighs and it would make Credence cry, probably, but Percy comes closer then, taking his shirt off. “You’re alright?”   
  
“I am,” Credence says firmly and smiles. “I just want some comfort and you inside of me.”   
  
“I think I can give you that,” Percy says with a smile. He gets out of his trousers and underclothes and grabs the lube from the nightstand. He slides into bed and Credence moves closer to him, until they meet in the middle.   
  
Credence wraps his arms around Percy’s neck and pulls him close, so he can kiss him and feel his warm skin against his own. Percy kisses Credence with just the right amount of passion, nothing too frantic, but open, and heat pools in Credence’s belly.   
  
Percy pulls back so he can get between Credence’s legs and he leans down to kiss him once, before pressing his lips to his jaw and shoulder, down to his chest and toward his navel.   
  
“Percy,” Credence whispers and slides his fingers through Percy’s hair. “I don’t want any foreplay. Please fuck me.”   
  
Percy sighs and leans down, kissing Credence’s stomach. “I’m going to get some lube in you, at least,” he says. He chuckles when Credence wrinkles his nose. “I’m not going to hurt you.”   
  
He grabs the lube and gets a generous amount on his palm. He sits up and lubes his cock first, until he’s hard, and Credence watches, biting his lip, thinking there are few sights as fine as that one. Percy’s hand moves down then, past Credence’s balls, until he presses against Credence’s hole.   
  
The lube is pleasantly warm and after spreading it around some, he pushes two fingers into Credence.   
  
Credence inhales sharply and tips his head back, reaching up to grab the top of his pillow. He spreads his legs more, bending his knees, and looks up at Percy when he curls his fingers just so, rubbing against Credence’s prostate.   
  
“Oh,” Credence whispers and licks his lips. He whines when Percy rubs more insistently, his cock heavy on his belly, twitching with that specific pleasure. “Oh, Percy, that feels so good. I love feeling you like this.”   
  
Percy smiles, his eyes dark, and continues stroking inside of Credence. “One day I’m going to get you on my desk,” he says quietly. “All fours. Once I’ve got you leaking from my tongue in your ass, I’m going to finger you like this and stroke your cock until you come on my desk.”   
  
Credence grunts, trying not to come  _ now,  _ and tightens his grip on the pillow. “Fuck,” he whispers, chest heaving rather unexpectedly already, and he’s shaking. Shaking from what Percy is doing to him and from the image he’s put in his head. “Okay, that’s going to happen very soon.”   
  
“As soon as you want it,” Percy says with a husky chuckle. He pulls his fingers out and adds a third one, with little resistance. “No one on the floor can hear anything from my office. I’d expect you to be as loud as possible.”   
  
“Percy,” Credence gasps, arching his back when Percy strokes him again. “I’m always loud.” He grins when Percy chuckles his agreement before whining as he slides his fingers slowly in and out. “I’m ready, fuck me.”   
  
Percy smiles and pulls his fingers out, shaking his hand until it’s clean. He moves over Credence and guides himself to his hole, pressing the tip of his cock against it slowly until he slips inside. He’s still looking for resistance, watching Credence for any pain, but Credence finds he’s already too damn close to an orgasm.   
  
He hooks his feet to the back of Percy’s thighs and pulls him closer, until Percy is buried deep. Credence groans, wrapping his legs around Percy’s waist and his arms around his neck.   
  
Percy presses his chest against Credence’s and kisses him, a little sloppy and wet, and Credence moans at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of him.   
  
He rocks slowly into Credence, more of a roll of his hips, and Credence breaks away from their kiss to tilt his head back and sigh in pleasure.   
  
“You feel amazing, sweetheart,” Percy says, into the crook of Credence’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along him. He slides out then, only a bit, but he snaps his hips when he pushes into Credence. “That what you need?”   
  
“Yes,” Credence gasps, sliding his hands down Percy’s back, digging his nails into his skin. “Just like that, Percy, please.” He whines when Percy thrusts into him again, deep, never pulling out too far.   
  
It’s slow and steady like this for a while and Credence holds tightly onto Percy, whether he’s kissing him or sucking bruises on his neck. Credence’s moans are soft, breathy, and Percy’s low groans are what he needs to hear right now.   
  
The heat and passion are still strong between them but it’s turned into something else now, something softer, something to last and be enjoyed at a low simmer, even while a storm brews in Credence and he holds in a scream, a scream that will one day be let loose, but not today.   
  
The build up to Credence’s climax doesn’t end with a crash, but with a gentle wave, his name a reverential whisper from Percy’s lips as he strokes Credence through it.   
  
“Percy,” Credence says as he trembles, gasping when he finishes, looking into Percy’s dark eyes. His thrusts are harder now, seeking his own end, and Credence tightens his hold on him. “I love you,” he breathes.   
  
Percy comes then, with a choked grunt, his brow furrowed, beautiful in his pleasure, the way he always is. He leans down and presses his lips to Credence’s neck with a groan as he fills him.   
  
Credence clings to him, squeezing his eyes shut, and kisses along Percy’s shoulder and he feels him trembling too and doesn’t know if it’s good or bad or something in between.   
  
“Fuck,” Percy says, hot against Credence’s neck. “I love you too, sweetheart.”   
  
Credence bites his lip and his eyes sting and there is a dull ache in his throat, but he holds it in. Percy pulls back then and Credence looks up at him, moving his hand to his cheek, feeling the light stubble on his jaw that will be gone by morning.   
  
Percy gazes down at him, tenderly, and presses a soft kiss to Credence’s lips. “I love you, Credence,” he says and it’s not so broken with pleasure, but firm, firm enough to hurt.   
  
Because Percy wants Credence to know it’s real. That when he says it, he’s not lying, he’s not manipulating him, and Credence knows that. He knows it well and it’s the worst thing he’s ever heard while also being the most genuine thing anyone has ever said to him.   
  
Credence’s lip is wobbling but Percy takes it the wrong way, with a gentle smile and another kiss, and nuzzles against his neck.   
  
He’s gone sooner than Credence would like, out of him and off of the bed, cleaning both of them with a wave of his hand and walking into the bathroom. Credence looks up at the ceiling, his heart still racing, and he feels like running.   
  
Running away from here, away from Manhattan, away from New York, and not coming back.   
  
——   
  
Near the end of June, Percy leaves the states to assist with a manhunt in British Columbia. It’s something he does, Credence knows, because he has one of the best minds for predicting patterns and rooting out evil.   
  
He told Credence to expect him to be gone for a few days but possibly longer than that, depending on how it all goes. He leaves on Monday and Credence knows what he can do to occupy his Tuesday and Wednesday, his days off, even though it makes him feel immensely guilty.   
  
Credence checks in with Gnarlak first and tells him what he’s learned about a few secret entrances and exits into MACUSA that Percy had told him about not too long ago. They’re used for security purposes, mostly, and have been in place for a long time, ways to help Presidents escape an attack or for security to get in stealthily, if there’s a break-in.   
  
Percy hadn’t told him exactly where they were, only that there was one in the Auror training rooms, many floors down, and another close to the President’s office. It had been a normal conversation and Credence couldn’t pry more than that, not even with innocent curiosity, because he knew Percy would only smirk at him and say  _ that’s privileged information, Mister Barebone. _ _   
_   
But once Percy has gone and Credence works through his Monday in the Magical Games and Sports department, he goes home Monday evening with one goal in mind.   
  
He knows the spells to use to look for curses laid as traps, but Credence doesn’t think he’s going to find anything with them. He thinks Percy would have told him there were traps in the apartment he lives in.   
  
Percy’s been leaving his office unlocked for a while now and Credence has been waiting for this opportunity, to have plenty of time alone, no risk of being caught snooping around.   
  
He starts Tuesday morning in the office.   
  
There really isn’t much in there beyond numerous bookshelves filled with various genres of books, one entire bookshelf dedicated to defense and Dark Arts, for when Percy’s working at home and needs to reference something. But after he’s cast the spells to look for curses and finds none, Credence goes through all the shelves, looking for anything behind the books, but there’s nothing.   
  
The desk drawers are locked, he knows that, and he’d tried to unlock them once, but they hadn’t budged. He tries to open them now and to his great surprise, they unlock with a simple  _ Alohomora _ and he stops then, thinking this might be a trap in itself.   
  
But there isn’t a curse waiting for him. Maybe Percy had simply forgotten to cast a different lock. Or maybe Percy trusts Credence not to go snooping through his things.   
  
Credence shakes his head and opens the top drawer. It’s filled with various notepads and parchment paper, pens and wax and stamps, for official letters. The next drawer holds a few different small objects, some an Auror uses that Credence recognizes, because Percy has them in his office at MACUSA as well. There are a couple of spare wands that Credence doesn’t dare touch and he closes the drawer as well.   
  
The bottom drawer is the biggest and he opens it, looking down at various different files, marked and organized in Percy’s neat hand. They seem to be personal, a few of the names sharing his surname, and one is labeled  _ Graves Manor. _ Credence hums and opens the file, reaching inside and grabbing a few pieces of paper.   
  
It’s only a deed and blueprints and a copy of the succession forms. Credence is surprised to see that the manor belongs to Percy, but he’s never mentioned it still being something he has possession of. He speaks about his home like it doesn’t exist anymore and Credence thinks about the church and how, for him, it doesn’t exist anymore either.   
  
He puts that away and looks at the file in the back, simply labeled _ Eliza. _   
  
Eliza was Percy’s sister who passed away when he was eighteen and she was twenty-four. Percy talks about her sometimes, always fondly, the only family member he seems to have actually had a good relationship with.   
  
He’d told Credence his family had died by _ lifestyle choices,  _ but it had been a few months before Percy told him Eliza had passed away due to an accident with an incorrectly brewed sleeping draught.   
  
Percy said that Eliza didn’t brew potions, that she bought them if she needed them, and he suspected his father had a hand in it but he could never prove anything and Silas Graves was dead within a year of her anyway.   
  
Credence grabs what’s tucked in her file with trembling hands and lays out papers on Percy’s desk, looking at a few journals and other official things, like her death certificate, a copy of her living will.   
  
There’s a bulge in one of the journals and when Credence opens it, he’s taken aback when he sees a wand. It must have been Eliza’s, a warm cherry wood with a mother-of-pearl inlay on the bottom not dissimilar to Percy’s own wand. It makes Credence’s heart jump, to see the wand that Eliza used for so long, to know there was a witch alive and well that once held it.   
  
That used it to cure some of Percy’s wounds, inflicted by their father. Credence is too scared to touch it, feels like he’s intruding more than he already does, and he closes the journal and puts everything neatly back in her file.   
  
There’s nothing else in the desk and Credence closes the drawer and locks them with a sigh. It’s not that he suspects all of MACUSA’s darkest secrets to be lying in Percy’s desk and he hopes they’re not lying anywhere else, but he doesn’t like doing this to begin with.   
  
It’s such a striking difference from the last time he moved through someone else’s possessions, without a care in the world, nothing personal to feel.   
  
Credence leaves the office the way he found it and walks into their bedroom and into the closet. There are four large boxes on the shelves at the top of the back of the closet and Credence waves his wand at one of them until he can take it in his arms.   
  
The closet is large enough for Credence to sit in and he opens the box, which isn’t labeled, and looks down at a few photo albums. He’s tempted to put it back, doubts he’ll find anything of interest in here, but something stops him. He picks up the one on the left and opens it, looking at a few pictures of a baby.   
  
Credence laughs. It’s definitely Percy, only he could look so angry as an infant, and he flips a page, looking at other pictures of Percy’s childhood.   
  
Most of the pictures are family portraits, like they were posing for the newspaper, too official and stiff. Percy’s family isn’t waving or smiling, they’re barely moving in fact, except Percy’s father, who keeps raising his chin.   
  
Credence stares at the man, the man who had put Percy through as much pain as Ma did to Credence, and is surprised that they look so similar. Percy’s father has a squarer, meaner face, stern lines in it, but there’s no mistaking who he is, and he’s not touching his wife or his children.   
  
Percy’s mother looks drawn and tired as she holds him, still only a baby, her free hand on Eliza’s shoulder. They all have dark hair and pale skin, but Percy had told him Eliza’s eyes were blue, while theirs were brown. From somewhere else in the family line, along with her spirit, Percy had said.   
  
She’s only six or seven here but she looks up at Credence with a seriousness that disturbs him with its familiarity. He flips through a few more pages, most of the pictures the same, everyone steadily aging in them. There are a few candid pictures and Credence doesn’t know who they were taken by, but most are of Eliza and Percy. Sometimes they’re smiling and sometimes they’re not, but whenever Eliza looks at Percy, there’s fondness in her eyes.   
  
There are pictures of her in Ilvermorny robes and one must be the day she finished school, because she’s grinning and laughing, holding a friend’s hand, her face carefree in a way it hasn’t been in the other pictures.   
  
Credence puts the album away then and goes through another one. It’s filled with older pictures of other Graves family members, stern looking people, all dark-haired except the occasional outlier, married into the family, and Credence understands why Percy never enjoyed being around these people.   
  
The next album is better. It’s Percy’s life, pictures taken by friends, most likely, when he was young, not even seventeen on the first page. He was always handsome, Credence thinks, but there’s a mischievous to him that disappears after the first couple of pages. There are more official pictures of him, his first taken with MACUSA, his first taken when he became an Auror, when he received some sort of award and is shaking hands with who must have been his Director at the time.   
  
These were the years following Eliza’s death and it seems that Percy hadn’t regained that glint in his eye until he was in his mid-twenties. There are more pictures of him candidly again, with people Credence doesn’t know, and quite a few with Seraphina Picquery, showing a far different side to her than Credence has ever seen in the newspaper or the two very brief encounters he’s had with her personally.   
  
They’re close, obvious affection between them in every picture they have together. Sometimes there’s a group of them and with a start, Credence recognizes Theo Fontaine, Percy’s Captain, much younger and less intimidating for it.   
  
Credence isn’t entirely surprised to see most of their pictures together involve a great deal of alcohol. Eventually another woman is with them, with a shock of curly, dark hair, and Credence recognizes her as Eldora, Fontaine’s wife, who might be the funniest woman he’s ever spoken to.   
  
It’s good to see Percy having fun like this. They have a good time when they go out these days too, Credence included, but they’re older and less worried about drinking to get drunk than having good, if sometimes wildly embarrassing conversation.   
  
Credence puts the album away when he’s done and brings down the next box. It has personal effects in it, not much of anything that seems important beyond the personal value they hold to Percy. There are blue ribbons he knows belonged to Eliza and trinkets collected over years, Credence is sure, but he’ll never know what they mean unless Percy tells him.   
  
He picks up a stuffed Hippogriff, old and frayed, and doesn’t know whose it was, but it makes him sad all the same.   
  
Credence realizes then he’s on a journey through Percy’s life, not on a job, and he puts the box away with a sigh. He doesn’t expect the last two to be any different, but he brings them down all the same and opens one of them.   
  
More personal effects and a few thick stacks of letters, old and faded. Credence thinks about going through them, but he thinks they must be from Eliza and maybe Seraphina, and the idea of reading their words makes him feel a little ill.   
  
He opens the last box and hums as he looks at a few items. There’s a Golden Snitch in a glass box and when he picks it up, he sees it’s been signed by a famous Quidditch player who played about fifteen years ago. It’s valuable and it makes him laugh a little, to know Percy’s stuffed it in a box in his closet.   
  
Everything in this box is signed by someone. A few books signed by the witches and wizards who wrote them, a personal note of thanks from a previous President, and large, thick pieces of paper rolled up tightly and tied gently with a white ribbon. Credence picks it up and takes off the ribbon, unrolling them.   
  
They’re more blueprints, the top one signed in the corner by a name he can’t quite make out, and it takes a while of squinting at it before he realizes it’s a blueprint of MACUSA.   
  
Credence’s heart jumps. It’s dated in the mid-1800s, likely when it was expanded upon or improved, and he squints at them for a while, looking between the three floors.   
  
One is the Auror training floor and Credence feels a cold sweat on his forehead as he looks it over in more detail. Yes, there it is, he thinks, a tiny door in the back section of one of the training rooms, only marked  _ Security.  _ There’s no saying where the door goes, but it’s there, where Percy said it would be.   
  
The other blueprints show the kitchens and cafeteria, changed from whatever they were before, and another is the floor he himself works on. He’s not sure what’s different about it, what was changed, and he rolls the papers up, tying them with the white ribbon.   
  
Credence sits in the closet for a long while and he knows this is good information. That Gnarlak can sell the blueprints of the Auror training floor for a hefty price alone, not counting the secure and secret entrance out of them. He doesn’t know if they’ll be used for anything anytime soon, if they’ll be used at all, and yet he knows this is important to give to his boss.   
  
That he’ll be immensely pleased with Credence for finding it.   
  
That he might even send a mole in, just to go down there and see where the door leads to.   
  
Credence has been doing this for too long to not know how something like this goes.   
  
He puts the boxes away, neat, the way they’d been when he came in and leaves the apartment shortly after, the blueprints shrunk in his pocket.   
  
Gnarlak is in the bar when Credence walks in, with a few associates, and Credence expands the blueprints and hands them to him.   
  
“What do we have here, Mister Barebone?” he asks with a smile and spreads the blueprints out on one of the tables. He looks between them before leaning back in his chair, grabbing his lit cigar from an ashtray and puffing on it as he looks up at Credence.   
  
“Well done, Mister Barebone. Well done. I’ll have news for you once these have been examined. Keep doin’ what you’re doin’. The Director’s clock is running out now, ain’t it?”   
  
There are chuckles of dark agreement and Credence smiles.   
  
If he doesn’t keep smiling, he’ll start screaming.   
  
Copies are made of the blueprints and Credence goes home in the evening after spending some time in his dusty apartment and trying to remember his roots. The roots he actually likes.   
  
Credence puts the blueprints away and sits on the edge of their bed, looking out of the windows across from him, and knows this is the beginning of the end.   
  
What the end will look like is still in his hands and he wishes he could wipe them clean, because they carry someone’s blood and he doesn’t know whose yet, but it’s unbearable all the same.   
  
——   
  
Percy comes home safe and sound, as he always has, and likely always will, until the end.   
  
He suspects nothing, only ever affectionate with Credence when he comes home from a trip outside of the state, and Credence realizes it’s harder each time he goes. That he misses him more, that he’s more relieved when he’s home, and they both cling to each other.   
  
They have dinner with Fontaine and Eldora the following Saturday and Fontaine has long gotten over eyeing Credence with suspicion, teasing him as much as teases Percy, but Credence is used to it, can give it back, along with Eldora, and he realizes he likes these people very much.   
  
Percy had asked him months ago when he’d be meeting Credence’s friends and when Credence had told him  _ you know, the longer I spend away from them, the more I realize they aren’t good friends _ he’d believed him and never asked again.   
  
Queenie Goldstein finds him one day in July when he’s eating alone in the cafeteria, Percy upstairs with Seraphina, and though he’s immensely nervous when she sits across from him without any invitation at all and throws up his walls, it only takes a half hour of talking to her before he realizes his general annoyance with her existence was incredibly foolish.   
  
She meant no harm and she’s sweet, funny, and has an easygoing way about her that gets him to loosen his shoulders. He may not be good at Legilimency, but he knows she’s a genuine person. So genuine that she believes him when he tells her why he’d learned Occlumency, because she’s not looking for any lies, the way Percy never does.   
  
Whenever Percy is unavailable for lunch, Credence starts taking it with the Goldstein sisters and finds friends in them.   
  
Percy grumbles about it, but Credence can tell he’s happy for him. That he has good friends, real friends, and they truly are. They aren’t career criminals who may be arrested or killed at any moment, who may get in bad with Gnarlak one day and disappear, leaving Credence to only grin and bear losing another friend.   
  
_ Just the way of things, Mister Barebone,  _ Gnarlak had told him, when he was sixteen years old.   
  
Credence knows Gnarlak is planning something big. Sometimes he puts things away when Credence walks into his office and Credence asks, but Gnarlak only grins and tells him he’ll find out when the time is right.   
  
Percy tells Credence one day in August that he thinks he’s due a vacation and Credence raises his eyebrows, because he’s fairly certain Percy has never taken a vacation in the twenty years he’s been at MACUSA.   
  
“I have too,” Percy says defensively when Credence says so. “Every time I’ve landed myself in a hospital bed it’s been a vacation.”   
  
Credence rolls his eyes and turns back to his book. “Where do you want to go?”   
  
“Have you ever been to the Pacific Northwest?”   
  
“I think you’re forgetting which one of us was born with a silver spoon in his mouth.”   
  
“What, you think my family went on vacation for  _ fun? _ Have you learned nothing?” Percy asks mildly as he reads the paper. “Seraphina and I went to Miami once. That was a good time. I was thinking you might enjoy mountains instead of beaches.”   
  
Credence smiles to himself. “You enjoyed it in British Columbia when you weren’t in a wand fight?”   
  
“I did,” Percy says. “I was thinking mid to late September. When everything is changing. Stay in a cabin, see some mountains and rivers. What do you say?”   
  
“You can’t wear fancy dress shoes out there though. How will you survive it?”   
  
“Alright, Mister Barebone,” Percy says and folds the newspaper, tossing it aside with a flick of his wrist. He moves closer to Credence on the sofa. “See if I ever offer to take you gallivanting across the countryside again.”   
  
“Oh no,” Credence says and laughs when Percy grabs his book and flings that aside too. “My page!”   
  
But Percy has other ideas and Credence finds he can’t stop laughing when Percy grabs him and manhandles him for a while, with a lot of kisses and the occasional bite, until finally Credence is lying on top of him on the sofa, giggling still. They’re both a little out of breath and Credence grins as he looks down at Percy.   
  
“I would love to go to the mountains with you,” he says. “That’s only a month before Qudditch season starts up again, so it’ll be less busy.”   
  
“Mhmm,” Percy hums in agreement and slides his hands along Credence’s back. “My thoughts exactly. Let’s get away from the skyscrapers for a while. Take in some nice sights.”   
  
Credence smiles and leans in, kissing Percy’s chin, then his lips. “Okay,” he says. “Let’s do it. Mister Ibex shouldn’t mind.”   
  
“And if he does, I’ll visit him and see if he minds after.”   
  
“You’re so good at being mean to people for me,” Credence says dryly. “I’ll put the request in tomorrow and it’ll be fine. How long do you want to go for?”   
  
“A week, probably,” Percy says with a smile. “A proper vacation. Enough time to relax and rejuvenate before the holidays come and sap the life out of me again.”   
  
“I didn’t think you were very lifeless during Christmas,” Credence says with a smile.   
  
“Well, no. I had just met you, how could I be? Should’ve seen me for the last six Christmases though. Ask Fontaine one day just how well Christmas usually goes in our department.”   
  
“I know how well it goes because of the criminals. I didn’t realize you were part of the agony Aurors suffer.”   
  
Percy laughs. “That’s a good way to put it,” he says and squeezes Credence’s hips. “Maybe you can help me get through this Christmas too.”   
  
Credence smiles as he gazes at Percy and leans in to kiss him. “Hopefully I can,” he says. “I want to get you something nice for Christmas this year.”   
  
“You are something nice.”   
  
“That’s not whiskey or a watch,” Credence says as he ignores Percy otherwise, smiling a little when he pinches his side for it. “Or clothes. What can I get the man that has everything?”   
  
Percy smiles and moves his hand up, brushing Credence’s hair off of his forehead. “I’ll figure out something you can get me, if you really want to,” he says. “We’ve got the time.”   
  
“Oh, please,” Credence says. “I feel like I just met you and it’s already August. Christmas is going to be here before we know it.”   
  
“True,” Percy says wryly. “Time does always fly by. At least it’s enjoyable these days.” He leans up and kisses Credence, sweetly so, and Credence doesn’t think he can fall anymore in love, but he manages to then. “Let’s spend some time with autumn first though.”   
  
“Sounds like a plan,” Credence says with a soft smile. He carefully climbs off of Percy and fetches his book from the floor. “Look, you bent two of my pages.”   
  
Percy gets off the sofa and moves behind Credence, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I’ll fix those later,” he says. “You want to go do a little bending of our own?”   
  
“Ugh,” Credence laughs. “If you can say it any other way than that.”   
  
Percy kisses the back of Credence’s neck. “Mister Credence Barebone, will you do me the great honor of shoving your cock up my ass?”   
  
Credence continues laughing, putting his book over his face for a while, his cheeks hot. “Merlin, fine,” he finally says. “It would be my great honor to do so, Mister Percival Graves.”   
  
“Alright then,” Percy says and takes Credence’s hand, tugging him along toward the bedroom. “And then we plan a vacation after.”   
  
“Where to, again?”   
  
“The most beautiful place you’ll ever see. I promise.”   
  
——   
  
Mister Ibex grants Credence the time off.   
  
He’s fond of Credence, despite the fact that he stumbled through his work for a while, but he’s fairly good at it now. And Percy was right that it keeps him out of the office, as often as they have to visit pitches and meet important people. It’s an interesting job, fun too, though he hardly learns anything Gnarlak would want to know.   
  
And he’s not particularly looking for anything deeper than that anyway.   
  
Credence only sees Gnarlak once between August and their vacation in September. He tells him some things he’s learned, mostly from Queenie, who knows a lot about everything, and Gnarlak finds it interesting when he hears the name Hemlock, one of Percy’s Aurors. Not that he’s having an affair with a witch in Records who is married to someone on the Court, but the name itself, and tells Credence he’ll learn more while he’s gone.   
  
When the morning comes that they leave, Percy has already packed, and teases Credence when he rushes through it himself, because he’d told him to get packed the night before.   
  
Credence has never packed for anything like this before nor has he ever taken a portkey, which he didn’t quite realize were so precise with their time.   
  
But they grip the broken alarm clock together and a feeling, not so unlike Apparition, takes hold, with quite a lot more spinning. It’s not as gentle in arriving at the location as Apparition is, but Percy holds tightly onto Credence so he doesn’t fall over in a heap.   
  
It probably wouldn’t have hurt too much if he had, he realizes, when he stands straight and blinks the dizziness away. They’re in a forest and the abrupt change from an alleyway into a forest, thick with the scent of pine and shockingly bright with red and orange leaves on other trees, is a surprise.   
  
He looks around and hears a creak babbling somewhere nearby. Percy takes his luggage from him and he looks after him as he walks to a beautiful cabin. It’s not huge, but it’s big enough for them, and Credence follows Percy inside and smiles.   
  
It’s warm, in colors and atmosphere, and he looks at wooden furniture draped with wool blankets and a bearskin rug in front of a huge fireplace and a comfortable sofa. The kitchen is near the back and Percy is there, gesturing for Credence to come look.   
  
He opens the door that leads onto a covered deck and Credence gasps when he gets a look at their view.   
  
It’s a river, wide and open, lined with brilliantly colored trees, pine trees standing tall between them. Faraway mountains frame them, white-peaked already. The water is flowing slowly, not a roar, but peaceful and calm. There’s birdsong and the occasional distant hammering of a woodpecker, and Credence hears scurrying across the pine needles and soil and pebbles in front of the deck. He walks to the wooden railing and looks over it, at a chipmunk looking for something to eat.   
  
It spies Credence and runs to the nearest tree, scampering up it and peering at him suspiciously from a branch. Credence smiles and looks at Percy when he feels his arm around his shoulders.   
  
“This is amazing,” he says softly.   
  
“I thought you might like it,” Percy says and kisses Credence. “There’s a town a couple miles down the road. We need to stock that refrigerator. You want to come with me?”   
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums and smiles. “No-maj?”   
  
“That it is,” Percy sighs. “But they should have what we need.”   
  
Credence nods and turns, wrapping his arms around Percy. He hugs him tightly, squeezing his eyes closed. “I love you,” he says quietly. “Thank you for this.”   
  
“You’re welcome, love,” Percy says and kisses Credence’s neck. “I love you too.”   
  
They stay like that for a while, until it gets a bit too cold, and they go inside to find coats before heading to the no-maj town.   
  
They’re used to tourists using the cabin and greet them warmly, but Percy and Credence keep a certain distance, as they always must around no-majs. It’s a bit ridiculous, but far better than it could be, Credence knows well from experience. But they stock up on groceries and a few other items from the general store and are given a fond farewell with the offer to tell anyone if they need help.   
  
When they’re out of sight from town, they Disapparate back to the cabin and put everything away, besides lunch.   
  
When they’ve gotten everything sorted, including sandwiches and whiskey for Percy, they eat out on the deck, their first lunch here, and Credence wishes they might be able to stay here.   
  
Stay here forever, forget about MACUSA and speakeasies, with only each other and nature and a no-maj town not so far away.   
  
That they might forget what it means to be around dark people and only remember what it’s like to be in love.   
  
A squirrel distracts Credence from his thoughts, appearing at the top of the stairs leading off of the deck and looking at them. It’s clearly been around people before, whoever has stayed here previously, and Credence tosses it a piece of ham from his sandwich.   
  
“Now we’ll never be rid of it,” Percy says around a mouthful of his own sandwich.   
  
“I’m okay with that,” Credence says as he watches the squirrel eagerly eat the ham. “Nothing wrong with too many friends.”   
  
“You see how well magical creatures take to me.”   
  
“He’s not magical, is he? They’d take to you better if you didn’t insult them every five minutes,” Credence says and watches the squirrel move closer to him. He picks up a leaf and a pebble in hopes it might be food, until he’s at Credence’s boot. “More?”   
  
The squirrel climbs onto Credence’s boot and he grabs another piece of ham, handing it to him and smiling when he reaches for it. He eats it on Credence’s boot and he looks at Percy, raising his eyebrows.   
  
“He’s your problem when he gets inside,” Percy says but he’s smiling. “This is why we compliment each other. Your soft heart to my iron one.”   
  
Credence huffs a laugh. “Like you’re not a big softie,” he says quietly. “I think you might have us mixed up.”   
  
“Or maybe we’re made up of a bit of both.”   
  
Credence smiles and looks at Percy. “I think you might be right.”   
  
His heart’s always been soft, Credence knows, but he’d built iron around it all the same. Percy broke that open the day he met him, Credence suspects, but he’ll have to start building up his protection again.   
  
After this anyway, Credence thinks as he looks out at the river. After this he'll start putting up those walls, so when the time comes, he’ll only be damaged and might be able to repair himself.   
  
——   
  
Percy is at home in the outdoors, in a way Credence suspects he should have known. He’d grown up in the woods upstate, he has to be familiar with them, but the ease in which he moves around, building fires and telling Credence about various tracks and animal droppings is a surprise.   
  
It’s such a different side to him but Credence loves it all the same. Loves that there is more to Percy than a fashionable man in a posh apartment who might be the quickest wand in America.   
  
Of course Credence has known that for a long time, but he thinks that, somehow, a man that is familiar with nature is softer. There’s cold concrete and steel in Manhattan, but nature is something else entirely, something softer when the skies are forgiving.   
  
They eat breakfast in bed and lunch outside with the squirrels. Percy cooks dinner over large fires that he builds away from the deck and they sit in conjured, comfortable chairs and eat and talk as they watch some of the most glorious sunsets Credence thinks he’ll ever experience in his life.   
  
The way the pinks, oranges, reds and violets blaze over the mountain peaks, setting them on fire, is going to be something he will never forget.   
  
Percy takes him beyond the cabin, out into the wilderness, into wide open fields with autumn flowers, grass steadily yellowing as winter approaches. They walk around lakes and skip over creeks and watch wildlife go about their lives as they do it. They see moose and elk and even a grizzly bear that looks at them for a little too long, until Percy takes Credence’s hand and Disapparates elsewhere.   
  
It’s amazing. It’s breathtaking. It’s nothing like Credence ever thought he would experience and once the fires have died down outside at night, they often make love on the bearskin rug or in the large four-poster bed in the bedroom, draped with deerskin blankets.   
  
Credence knows he should not be enjoying this as he is, but he can’t help it. He hadn’t expected Percy to be… well, Percy, when he first approached him that night in  _ Armando’s, _ and he should have known then this would happen.   
  
Should have backed out of the job, told Gnarlak he wasn’t ready to work a man for so long, anything. Anything that could have stopped this from happening.   
  
Because he’s going to let the job continue. He has no choice. If he tells Percy, he will be thrown into prison for the rest of his life, and Percy will wipe his hands clean and move on, because he’s good at that. Credence will forfeit his life for Percy’s and he would never even see him again.   
  
But if he lets this happen, if he lets the job continue, he will lose Percy. The world will lose Percy. But they won’t know he had a part in it and he will have his life. He will keep going, keep working, and he will have his security. The security he desperately wanted for so long, that was hard won, and has been fiercely protected.   
  
Credence may not be able to wipe his hands clean of Percy, but he won’t be rotting away in a cell.   
  
These thoughts make him feel sick to his stomach, because he knows he’s a fucking liar, no matter what he tells himself.   
  
Credence will not be happier to watch Percy die just so he can be a free man. He will not be happy to see him tortured and killed or to see someone else wear his face and wreak havoc until inevitably Percy would be killed anyway. He can’t watch that happen, can’t be a part of it, can’t be the  _ reason _ for it.   
  
But the idea of coming clean, of telling Percy, of knowing what will happen, still paralyzes him with fear. Utter terror, to know he will watch the love in Percy’s eyes fade away, replaced with hatred, knowing his heart will break.   
  
On their last night in the cabin, after a day spent walking around the wilds of the Pacific Northwest, after watching another glorious sunset while eating juicy hamburgers Percy had made over the fire, Credence wonders if he can do it.   
  
They’re sitting on the sofa, wrapping around each other, under one of the wool blankets, watching the fire crackle in the heart in front of them.   
  
Credence is taken by the sudden, shocking need to tell the truth. It bubbles up in him, into his chest and throat, with urgency, because he knows things will change when they leave here.   
  
Something is going to happen soon.   
  
“I have to tell you something,” Credence says quietly as he stares at the fire, watching embers float up the chimney.   
  
“Hmm?” Percy hums and he’s tired. They’ve been sleeping early and rising early here and would be going to bed soon, if Credence didn’t open his mouth. “What’s wrong, love?”   
  
Credence feels ice in his veins and panic threatens to close his throat. He blinks rapidly, a cold sweat on his forehead, and swallows.   
  
“Percy, I’m not…” he trails off and breathes in deeply. “I… there’s something you should know, about something I’ve done.”   
  
“Credence,” Percy says quietly and he’s concerned now, taking Credence’s hand, trembling and cold. He squeezes it. “Love, what is it?”   
  
Credence blinks the sting in his eyes away and looks at Percy. Percy is gazing at him, frowning, his brow furrowed in such an overwhelming amount of concern that Credence nearly bursts into tears. But he only swallows and licks his lips nervously.   
  
“I went through your things,” he blurts, a little loudly, and Percy’s eyebrows shoot up.   
  
Credence curses himself, because that’s not what he’d meant to say.   
  
“You went through my things,” Percy repeats with confusion. “What things?”   
  
“Your, umm… your desk,” Credence says breathlessly. “And your closet. The boxes in there, on the shelf.”   
  
Percy stares at him for a while, still frowning. “May I ask why?” he asks slowly.   
  
“I wanted… I wanted to see if…” Credence trails off and with a dawning, horrible realization, he knows he can’t say it. He can’t fucking say it. “It scares me,” he says wildly. “How much I love you.”   
  
“Were you looking for something you hoped would change that?” Percy asks carefully and he’s not judging Credence, not at all.   
  
Credence could scream.   
  
He will, one of these days, he’ll finally let it out.   
  
“I don’t know. I suppose I was,” Credence says and sniffs, wiping his nose. “I didn’t actually expect to find anything, but I just… I hoped I would. I hoped I’d find something that would help me. Help me leave you, even if that’s the last thing I want to do. I’ve never been in love before and I know I’m going to fuck it up, so I think I was trying to find something that would make it happen and—”   
  
“Credence. Credence,” Percy says, grabbing both of Credence’s hands, because he’s running out of air. “Credence, love, shh. Shh, it’s alright. Credence, look at me, please.”   
  
Credence is shaking, all over, and bites his cheek as he looks at Percy, warily.   
  
“Credence,” Percy sighs and moves his hand to Credence’s cheek, brushing his thumb along it. “You didn’t do anything wrong. _ Credence,”  _ he says firmly, when Credence looks away again. “You didn’t. I’m sorry, love, that you’ve been feeling this way. You’re not going to fuck anything up. It’s alright to be scared.”   
  
“No… no it’s not,” Credence says, his voice cracking. “I shouldn’t be scared. I should be alright. I shouldn’t be feeling the way I do. This is supposed to be easy.”   
  
“Who fucking told you love is supposed to be easy?” Percy asks with faint but bitter amusement. “It’s not. You and I have had a pretty easy time of it, but it’s not going to be that way forever. I have a feeling you and I share a little bit of self-sabotage in common. It’s alright, Credence. I don’t have anything to hide from you. I’m yours, love, as long as you want me. I’m not going to tell you to not be afraid, but you can try talking to me if you are, instead of trying to find a reason to hurt yourself.”   
  
Credence feels tears on his cheeks and Percy rubs some of them away. He squeezes his eyes shut and he wishes he could tell Percy he doesn’t have any clue, no fucking clue, what he’s talking about. They may share self-sabotage in common and yet Credence can’t actually sabotage himself where it matters. With the truth. He’d sabotaged himself falling in love and he can’t go back now.   
  
He’s only lying all over again and Percy’s comforting him, the way he has since the beginning, and this  _ will _ destroy him.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispers and the tears come harder then. Percy shushes him, but it doesn’t help. “I’m sorry, Percy. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”   
  
“Credence, it’s alright,” Percy says and he pulls Credence closer, kissing his temple, his cheek and the corner of his mouth. “Darling, it’s fine. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s going to be okay.”   
  
Credence leans into Percy, dropping his head on his shoulder and he cries, the way he hasn’t been able to cry on his own. He cries the way he will when this is all done, because these are tears of mourning. Percy is here, his arms around Credence, his lips on his forehead, whole and alive, but one day he will be gone, never to be seen or spoken to again. He will be beyond Credence’s touch and his hands scrabble across Percy’s back until he has a grip of his shirt.   
  
He’s mourning a man that still lives and he can’t tell him why.   
  
It takes a long time for his tears to subside, but when they do, Percy extinguishes the fire and leads him to the bedroom. They get into bed together and Percy holds Credence close, kissing his shoulder.   
  
“I love you,” he says. “I always will. We’re a team, Credence, and we can weather any storm that comes our way. Let me help you when you need it. I’m always going to be here. I’m not going anywhere and I want you by my side for the rest of my life. We’ll be alright.”   
  
Credence clutches at Percy, glad he’s got his forehead pressed to his chest, so Percy can’t see the tears in his eyes. “You promise?” he whispers.   
  
“I promise. We’ve got Christmas to look forward to, don’t we? And coming back here once or twice or seven times a year. It’s going to be good, Credence. The way it’s been good since the day we met. I do promise you that.”   
  
Credence closes his eyes and holds tightly onto Percy’s soft shirt. “Okay,” he says softly. “I believe you. I want to be with you for the rest of my life too. I’m sorry.”   
  
“Don’t be sorry, love,” Percy says and rubs Credence’s back. “Don’t ever be sorry. I love you.”   
  
“I love you too,” Credence whispers.   
  
_ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😬


	3. Chapter 3

Besides Credence feeling angry and embarrassed with himself for being a coward, for not being able to tell Percy, nothing changes.   
  
Percy smiles and kisses him, like he’d done no harm, and really, from his point of view, Credence can see why he thinks so. He didn’t have anything to hide, he never has, not in the way he thinks Credence would be looking for something.   
  
Credence is quiet in the morning, but Percy lets him be, merely drinks coffee at his side and reads through one of the many books they’d brought along.   
  
They finish their time in British Columbia after lunch, saying goodbye to the squirrels and chipmunks, and the river and the mountain peaks. Percy asks Credence, very seriously, when they’re standing by the river, if he saw his baby pictures, and it breaks the tension, because Credence can’t stop laughing for a while after that.   
  
New York is an entirely different world when they get home, grey and ugly, beyond Central Park, and Credence is rather wrung out emotionally, not as rejuvenated as Percy seems to be. He’s as relaxed as he always is but there’s something more to it, something content and peaceful, and Credence clings to that, as much as he can.   
  
Because after a week back to work, Percy has to go to Boston overnight, and Credence goes to the speakeasy to check in, and gets the news he’s been dreading.   
  
Credence sits across the desk from Gnarlak and watches him puff his cigar and blow the green smoke out.   
  
“Hemlock,” Gnarlak says, “Hemlock was a name I knew, back in the early days. Looked into that junior Auror since you told me about him. His uncle ran a smuggling ring in Staten Island for a long time. Retired fat and rich, lucky him, let other people deal with the business. I had one of the guys visit Hemlock the Auror.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “How’d that go?”   
  
Gnarlak chuckles. “Oh, he had some words, at first. Took a little mention of his affair to get him to shut up,” he says. “But turns out Hemlock ain’t all Mommy wanted him to be. Used to help run messages for his uncle’s business when he was a kid. I’m supposin’ that Director Graves gave him a chance once he passed those character aptitude tests ‘cause the kid wants to be straight. Even has been, according to him.”   
  
Credence’s heart is hammering and he takes in a deep breath. “But you changed his mind,” he sighs. “How?”   
  
“Same as I always change their minds, Mister Barebone,” Gnarlak says and flips a Dragot his way.   
  
Credence catches it and looks it over. “What’s he agreed to do?”   
  
Gnarlak grins around his cigar. “He’s agreed to tell us where that little tunnel behind the Auror training rooms goes. And a couple of other things,” he says with a shrug. “But he’s the piece of the puzzle that’s been missin’.”   
  
“You’ve completed the picture.”   
  
Gnarlak winks. “Always do, don’t I?” he says. “We’ve got what we’ve needed but we need to plan. Director Graves will be hit during the holidays. Christmas Day, when things are quiet. I’ll tell you where and when as we get closer. For now, if you catch anything important, send it my way. Stay close to him for the next few months, keep him occupied, and by Christmas evening, it’ll be done.”   
  
Credence turns the Dragot over in his fingers, slick with sweat, and nods. There’s a roar in his ears, his blood rushing through his veins, and he feels cold. Ill.   
  
“Okay,” he hears himself say, stronger than he feels. “What’s a few more months?”   
  
“Gone by quick, hasn’t it? You’ll have some time off after this, clear your head of this job before I give you the next one. These long jobs might just become somethin’ of a specialty of yours, if you keep it up.”   
  
Credence smiles and sets the Dragot on the table. “I might up my price for the next one,” he says, a joke, and it makes Gnarlak chuckle.   
  
“You might just get away with it.”   
  
——   
  
Credence throws himself into work with Mister Ibex in October. Quidditch season has begun, which means visiting pitches to make sure they’ve met quality inspections. Credence notates everything Mister Ibex talks about with various people, from trainers to managers to others that help keep the season running smoothly.   
  
He’s out of the state often himself throughout October and he thinks it helps him hang on to whatever bit of sanity he’s got left. If he starts thinking about Christmas too closely, he starts to spiral, so he’s glad to be busy.   
  
Percy gets busier too because colder days and longer nights, the approaching holidays, means that crime goes up. The no-maj prohibition is still something that causes him trouble regularly but it picks up even more around Halloween.   
  
They still spend every evening together, even if it’s only for a late dinner and talking about their days until they’re tired enough for bed. Intimacy is shared in other ways, not as much time for it in the bedroom, and Credence doesn’t know if he’s glad for it or not.   
  
Some days he wishes he could spend all day in bed with Percy, making love and forgetting the outside world, because it will end in two short months. Their time together will be up and Credence still has no idea what’s going to happen to Percy.   
  
But once October passes and November starts to creep by, Credence has finished going to the pitches with Mister Ibex and they’re back in the office almost full time. He’s able to see Percy more at lunch, if he’s not too busy or with the President, and if he is, Credence takes lunches with the Goldsteins.   
  
Queenie tells him one day he looks tired, the kind of tired no amount of sleep will fix, and he wants to burst into tears, but merely tells her that she should try living with Percy during the holiday season. Tina agrees, telling Queenie he’s a nightmare as usual, before swiftly apologizing to Credence, her cheeks pink.   
  
It makes them laugh and if his is a little desperate, they don’t seem to notice.   
  
Percy notices, when mid-November arrives and the skies begin to turn grey more often, the city plagued with cold wind, and they expect to see the first snows in the early days of December.   
  
It’s Credence’s day off, Tuesday morning, and he’s clutching a mug of tea in his hands, sitting on the sofa and staring out of the windows, thinking that a month and a half really is not all that far away.   
  
“You alright, love?” Percy asks as he comes out of his office and looks at Credence. “You’re pale.”   
  
“I’m fine,” Credence says with a smile. He takes a drink of tea and only groans a little in complaint when Percy walks over to feel his forehead. “I don’t have a fever.”   
  
“It’s flu season, you know,” Percy says. “But you don’t. Nightmares?”   
  
_ Yes, but they happen when you’re at work already _   
  
“Not really,” Credence says. “I think October took a lot out of me, is all.”   
  
“You’ll see a match soon, at least, that should be a good time,” Percy says. “It’s Thanksgiving right after.”   
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums as he looks out of the windows. “You said you’re getting a turkey.”   
  
“I am,” Percy says and sits next to Credence, his arm behind him on the sofa. “See if I can remember how to cook one and not set fire to the kitchen.”   
  
Credence smiles and takes another drink of tea. He looks at Percy and raises his eyebrows. “I think you’ll do okay,” he says. “I’ll have my wand ready though.”   
  
Percy smiles. “The apartment might just thank you later,” he says and squeezes Credence’s shoulder. “You look like you need a week of sleep.”   
  
“Do I look that bad?” Credence laughs and shakes his head. “I’m fine, really. I mean, I could always use a week of sleep, but I’m alright.” He bites his lip. “Though I do kind of miss you. All of you.”   
  
“I wish I could say it’s going to get better, but it won’t until after New Years,” Percy says. “How did we manage to have sex so often during the holidays last year?”   
  
Credence laughs. “Having sex after midnight or before six in the morning, a lot of the time,” he says and grins when Percy grimaces. “What, did you age thirty years in the last year?”   
  
“I do have more greys than I did last year at this time. Only one thing in my life changed, you know.”   
  
“Oh? I’m making you age faster?”   
  
“My heart does feel like it’s going to give out whenever you’re around.”   
  
Credence laughs more and shakes his head, leaning over so he can kiss Percy. “You’re good at making romance sound awful, you know,” he says and smiles when Percy chuckles. “You don’t have to be at work for a couple more hours.”   
  
“I don’t,” Percy agrees and raises his eyebrows. “I am also already showered and dressed for work.”   
  
“Oh, well,” Credence says and holds out his hand. “If you’re already showered and dressed for work, then I suppose that’s that. No big deal. I’ll do it myself later.”   
  
Percy laughs. “I’d like to watch that,” he says and smirks when Credence waves his hand at him. “You know, you do have a thing for my suits.”   
  
Credence smiles as he looks Percy up and down. “I do,” he says. “You could stay just like that and leave me feeling very satisfied for the day.”   
  
“You and me both,” Percy says and moves his hand to Credence’s thigh, squeezing it. “Tell me what you want.”   
  
“Hmm,” Credence hums as he takes another drink of the tea before he sets it aside. He stands and moves between Percy’s knees when he spreads them. “Get your cock out and lube it up.” He reaches down and pulls his shirt up and off, tossing it on the ground.   
  
Percy looks him over, humming in approval, unbuckling his belt and taking it off. He unzips his pants before lifting his hand and Credence stops him with a raised finger. Percy looks at him and raises his eyebrows.   
  
Credence pulls his wand out and clears his throat as he points it toward the hall. He squints and flicks his wand. There’s a small crash, but the familiar bottle of lube zooms out of the hall and into his hand. He looks at Percy as he waggles his hand.   
  
Percy laughs and claps a few times, winking. “Perfectly well done,” he says and smirks when Credence laughs. “You’ve been practicing.”   
  
“I have been,” Credence says. “Maybe that’s why I’m so tired.” He gives the lube to Percy and gets out of his pajama pants. “I am not nearly as smart as you.”   
  
Percy scoffs and opens the lube. “You are just as smart as me. Good at things I’m not,” he says. “I have learned more about the state I’ve lived in my entire life in this last year with you than all my previous ones.”   
  
“Street smarts aren’t the same.”   
  
“No, but they’re just as important,” Percy says. “You are infinitely more wise than me when it comes to how things work out there and I’ve been learning how things work out there for twenty years.”   
  
Credence smiles. “Maybe you all should hire a street criminal and pay him well enough to show you how things work out there,” he says. “Someone who knows all the tricks, knows where everything is hidden. How things move through the city.”   
  
“We’d clear out the city in six months,” Percy says with some amusement. “And he’d be dead in six and a half.”   
  
“...you’re probably right,” Credence says and laughs. “I’m going to ride you now, so talk to me about something else.”   
  
Percy smiles and strokes himself a few times as he looks Credence over. “Maybe about how fucking beautiful you are? How lucky I am that I get to see you like this?” he asks and moves his hands to Credence’s hips when he gets on the sofa, straddling him. “How lucky I am that you looked twice at me?”   
  
Credence wraps his arms around Percy’s neck and smiles. “I would’ve looked twice at you no matter how we met, you know,” he says. “I probably would’ve fallen in love with you during our first conversation no matter what too.”   
  
“You know, I think I would have too,” Percy sighs as he looks up at Credence. “You’re just that remarkable.”   
  
“What does that make you?” Credence asks with a grin as he lifts himself up when Percy’s hand moves behind him, his fingers slick with lube.   
  
“A fucking lucky bastard,” Percy says as he spreads the lube. “In every single way.” He pushes two fingers in.   
  
Credence kisses Percy then, deep and passionate, moaning when Percy thrusts his fingers in and out, generous with lube and stretching him, until it’s an easy slide. They break apart so Percy can hold his cock steady and help guide Credence down.   
  
The burn is only slight when he presses in, Credence’s body well used to this, even if they don’t have the time to make it a nightly thing right now. He hisses and grips Percy’s shoulders as he moves slowly down along him, until he’s seated in his lap.   
  
Percy’s eyes are dark and heavy lidded and he slides his clean and dry hands up along Credence’s back and down again, gripping his ass. “Beautiful,” he whispers. “Absolutely beautiful.”   
  
Credence’s cheeks are warm and he grins, leaning in to press a kiss to Percy’s lips. He moves then, adjusting himself to get better leverage, a slow slide up and down, and bites his lip when Percy groans.   
  
“Oh,” Credence sighs in pleasure, tilting his head back, closing his eyes. “We need to make more time for this,” he whispers and whines when he lowers himself again, harder this time.   
  
“Yes we do,” Percy agrees, his voice low. He kisses Credence’s chest as he grips his hips and takes Credence’s nipple into his mouth, licking and brushing his teeth along it.   
  
Credence gasps, shivering in the way only that sensation can make him do, something he knows Percy likes. He slides his hand up, tangling his fingers in Percy’s hair, mussing it all up, but Percy doesn’t complain.   
  
He arches his back and moves faster, harder, no urge to take his time, holding tightly onto Percy’s shoulder as he tosses his head back. “Oh, fuck, Percy,” he gasps. “Merlin, you feel so fucking good.”   
  
Percy moans as he kisses along Credence’s chest, up to his shoulder. “You do too, darling,” he says and the way his voice goes gravelly sometimes always makes Credence moan helplessly. “That’s it, love, just like that.”   
  
Credence looks down at Percy as he rides him, the sofa affording him a better place to grip than their bed. It’s a harsh drop of his hips but Credence loves it, gasping and moaning each time Percy’s cock presses deep.   
  
He grips the back of the sofa and slides his other hand along Percy’s chest, over his silky jacket and to his tie. He loosens it, just to see Percy not so pristine, and grabs Percy’s collar to pull him closer, kissing him.   
  
It’s not easy to do when he’s moving the way he is, so he bites Percy’s lower lip, until Percy groans, digging his fingers into Credence’s hips.   
  
Credence lets him go and licks his lip to soothe it until they’re kissing again, hot and open mouthed, faltering when Percy snaps his hips up unexpectedly. Credence cries out, tipping his head back, and when Percy guides his hands to the back of the sofa again, Credence merely holds on.   
  
Percy fucks him mercilessly, the way Credence wants it most of the time, and he shouts his name, his cock throbbing and leaking between them, onto Percy’s jacket.   
  
When Percy’s moans get the edge to them that Credence knows so well, he nods. “Come inside me,” he whispers and moans, high, with another snap of Percy’s hips. “Yes, yes, Percy, come inside me!”   
  
“I will, darling,” Percy promises. He thrusts a few more times before he grabs Credence’s hips and pulls him flush to his thighs, burying himself deep, and his moan is more wrecked than usual when he comes.   
  
“Fuck yes,” Credence whines as he feels Percy’s cock pulsing inside of him. He thinks Percy’s come in him shouldn’t be the turn on it is, but  _ oh _ it is, and Credence rocks his hips gently as he watches Percy through his orgasm.   
  
Percy leans back against the sofa, chest heaving, his hair ruined and the look on his face a bit ruined too. One of the best looks on him. He moves his hand to Credence’s cock then and strokes him the way he likes it.   
  
He’s going to come on Percy’s fancy suit and just the idea of it, with the feel of Percy still hard inside of him, still throbbing, pushes Credence over the edge.   
  
He comes with a soft cry, holding onto Percy’s shoulders, and watches his come fall onto Percy’s clothes, until it begins to leak down Percy’s fingers. Credence moans when he finishes, leaning down to press his forehead to Percy’s.   
  
They breathe together and the way Percy strokes his hips and up along his back is always a comfort after this, his hands clean and steady, when Credence doesn’t feel so steady himself.   
  
Percy kisses him in between breaths until he wraps Credence tight in his arms and Credence slides his around Percy’s shoulders.   
  
“Fuck,” Credence sighs, pressing his cheek against Percy’s hair and closing his eyes. “That was just what I needed, Percy.”   
  
“Good,” Percy says, a little muffled against Credence’s shoulder. “Me too. Going to come home tonight and do this to you again.”   
  
Credence grins and pulls back some so he can look at Percy. “Yes, please,” he says and laughs when Percy does. “Thank you.”   
  
“Thank you, love,” Percy sighs. “I need another shower.”   
  
“I’ll take one with you this time,” Credence says with a grin. “Definitely can’t go into work with that hair.”   
  
“That’s what happens when you’ve got your hands in it thirty minutes after I style it.”   
  
“I wish I had a camera,” Credence sighs and smiles. “I love you.”   
  
Percy chuckles. “I love you too, Credence,” he says and kisses him.   
  
They clean what mess they can and shower together after. After Percy has dried and gotten dressed and styled his hair, Credence kisses him for a while, making sure not to wrinkle his clothes or ruin his hair again.   
  
Percy has to work, though, and leaves after a while, with a promise to be home when he usually is on Tuesday evenings. Credence watches him disappear into green flames and tries not to let the walls close in on him.   
  
——   
  
Credence can see his paleness himself. He can see the dark rings under his eyes, a good night of sleep only wishful thinking. He doesn’t think he’ll be sleeping peacefully again.   
  
He goes to a Quidditch match and he enjoys some of it, the parts that keep him busy, but the actual game is hard to follow, when all he can think about is Percy.   
  
In the following days, Percy asks him if he’s alright, and Credence can only smile and say yes, the same way he’s been smiling and saying yes to many people for many years now. His friends ask him too, Tina and Queenie, Fontaine even, who suggests he go to the infirmary to see if Madam Hornwall has anything to bring back the color to his skin.   
  
He doesn’t let Queenie into his head, but the idea to do so strikes him one day, when they’re eating lunch together. That he could let his walls crumble, let her see everything, let her be the one to learn the truth, so he never has to say it out loud. It would ruin everything and very swiftly and Credence almost does it, right there and then, because it’s the day before Thanksgiving, which means it’s only a month away from Christmas.   
  
Four weeks.   
  
Credence looks at Queenie and he tries to. Tries to let the walls fall, but he can’t. He can’t, the same way he couldn’t tell Percy in the cabin, the same way he can’t tell Gnarlak the truth.   
  
Always the fear of ruining everything stops him.   
  
Not because he’s scared to go to prison. But because he’s scared to lose Percy, to lose the love of his life, to watch Percy’s love turn into hate, and Credence thinks he’s the most selfish person in the world.   
  
The more afraid he is to lose Percy’s love, the closer he gets to losing Percy himself, in a horrific way, and still Credence can’t just  _ say it. _   
  
He has tried to write it down sometimes, when he’s home alone, but the words never come. Those that do he burns.   
  
Percy has invited Queenie and Tina over for Thanksgiving and they arrive with two bottles of champagne and a bottle of sparkling cider for Credence, which makes him laugh.   
  
The turkey doesn’t burn, nor does any of the apartment, and they’ve done reasonably well with all of the side dishes.   
  
Tina is still mildly nervous sometimes in front of Percy, but after a few flutes of champagne, her shoulders are loosened and Credence hides behind his own glass as he listens to her curse like a banshee describing one of the recent raids she’s been on.   
  
Percy shakes his head as Credence and Queenie lean on each other to hide their giggles. “Give her a few years, alcohol won’t have an affect anymore,” he says as he tips back his favorite whiskey.   
  
“Do they put that in the pamphlets they hand out at Ilvermorny?  _ Cons of Being an Auror: Alcoholism?” _ Credence asks with a grin.   
  
“Right alongside _ Death,” _ Percy says and pours himself another glass of whiskey. “We all say it won’t happen to us. One or both do eventually.”   
  
“Death via alcoholism for quite a few of ‘em, but that’s mostly after they’re retired,” Queenie says dryly. “Don’t you worry, honey, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen to Teenie.”   
  
“I know perfectly well how to hold my liquor,” Tina says and holds the glass up higher. “See?”   
  
Credence and Queenie dissolve into giggles again.   
  
“Fuck, Goldstein, it’s champagne,” Percy says and sighs when she only winks at him in a long, drawn out sort of way. “I should’ve invited Fontaine and Eldora over.”   
  
“Mister Fontaine is my _ Captain,” _ Tina says. “I can’t drink with him.”   
  
“I’m your fucking Director. I’m going to have to take you both home.”   
  
“I’m not as bad as all that,” Queenie sighs as she looks at her sister with some sympathy. “You got any music, honey?”   
  
Percy gestures at the kitchen. “There’s a radio in there.”   
  
“He has a gramophone in his office,” Credence tells Queenie, smiling when she grins at him. “You want me to get it?”   
  
“Yeah, honey, please!” Queenie says with a grin. “Maybe you can treat me to a dance, huh?”   
  
“I have no idea how to dance,” Credence laughs but he gets up anyway, grinning as Percy squints at him. He walks into the office and flicks his wand at the gramophone on a small table in the corner of the room.   
  
Credence walks back into the living room with it following him and guides it to rest on the coffee table.   
  
“You mean you’ve been livin’ together this long with a gramophone and Percy hasn’t taught you how to dance?” Queenie asks as she stands and flicks her wand at it, until a song begins to play, something soft and soothing, something that fits Percy.   
  
“It does seem like a gross oversight,” Percy says quietly and takes a drink of his whiskey as he looks at Credence.   
  
Credence smiles. “We’ve got plenty of time,” he says and looks at Queenie. “I don’t want to step on your feet.”   
  
“Alright, shoes off then,” Queenie says and kicks off her high heels with a bit of effort. Once Credence has kicked his own shoes off, he takes her hands when she offers them, and they move between the kitchen and living room, where there’s more open space. “Don’t be shy, hand on my waist.”   
  
Credence does as she says and moves the way she tells him to, wondering if dancing is taught at Ilvermorny or if most people simply know how to do it. He’s never had anyone to dance with and it’s such an odd thought.   
  
If he’d been thinking, he would have asked Percy to teach him.   
  
Queenie eventually tells him to stop looking at his feet and look at her instead and he fumbles for a moment, before he finds that it’s much easier then. She grins at him, patting his shoulder, and he smiles, glad he’s only stepped on her once.   
  
They move slowly around the room and Credence notices that Tina has fallen asleep. He grins at Percy, who is gazing at him, and he only smiles, something soft about it.   
  
“Aww, you’re a natural, honey,” Queenie says after a while. “You’ll be waltzing by Christmas.”   
  
Credence laughs. “I don’t know about that,” he says. “The tango looks a lot more fun.”   
  
“Merlin, if you have the stamina for it,” Queenie says with a grin. “Wouldn’t it be somethin’, Percy, seeing Credence tango?”   
  
“That would be more than something,” Percy says. He’s smiling, his eyes warm, as he watches Credence. “If you don’t mind losing your dance partner, Miss Goldstein…”   
  
“Oh, not at all, honey,” Queenie says. “Wish Teenie hadn’t had so much champagne, but I suppose one dance is enough for now.” She holds onto Credence’s hand and lifts it when Percy gets up and walks to them.   
  
Percy takes Credence’s hand with a smile and it’s easy to fall into step with him. But Percy’s always done that for him, given him confidence, made him feel like they fit perfectly together. Like they were meant for each other.   
  
Credence probably isn’t much of a dancer, but the slowness is nice, and eventually he leans forward, resting his head on Percy’s shoulder, moving together still.   
  
They stay like that for a while, until Tina stirs and whispers  _ oh they’re dancin’,  _ and Percy suggests they each take one of the guest rooms, as it’ll be easier than trying to get Tina downstairs to Apparate.   
  
Queenie, with a bit of help, gets Tina into the bed in the guest room and after she’s gotten more comfortable in the bathroom herself, she takes the other one, wishing them a good night and happy Thanksgiving.   
  
Credence cleans up the living room with a few waves of his wand while Percy is in the bedroom. When he comes back out, he waves his hand at the gramophone until it plays again and he lowers the volume.   
  
“One more?” he asks Credence.   
  
Credence smiles and nods, taking Percy’s hand when he offers it. They kiss now and then as they dance, and sometimes Percy teaches him a different step or two, and it’s nice. More than nice.   
  
“I’m sorry I never taught you how to dance,” Percy says after he’s pecked Credence’s lips.   
  
“I never even thought about dancing,” Credence says with a smile. “Don’t worry about it. I know I’m not very good.”   
  
“It’s your first time and you’ve already learned quickly,” Percy chuckles. “We’ve got all the time in the world to make you an expert.”   
  
“Are you an expert?”   
  
“I’ve certainly done a lot of dancing.”   
  
“All those balls you tell me about?”   
  
“Yes,” Percy says with a smirk. “I’ll be taking you to the next one. You’ll be fully prepared to impress everyone then.”   
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “Embarrass them, most likely, to know I’m one of them,” he says and smiles. “This was really nice, you know. It kind of felt like spending the holiday with family.”   
  
“It did, didn’t it? Nice to have some good family.”   
  
“It really is,” Credence says and bites his lip. “Best I’ve ever had.”   
  
The best family Credence could ever hope to have and he wishes he had met Percy in any other way. That he wasn’t a job, just a man, that maybe Credence wasn’t a criminal, but just a man as well. That they fell in love naturally and never had to worry about anything else.   
  
That when Christmas finally arrives, brilliantly white and cold, he only has to be concerned about what’s under the tree.   
  
——   
  
A week before Christmas Gnarlak tells Credence what he needs to do.   
  
Where he’s to take Percy, exactly the time he should, and what he should expect to see when he gets there. It’s a place Credence knows, a place he wishes he wasn’t familiar with, but that’s precisely why Gnarlak chooses it.   
  
“I know you don’t have good memories there,” Gnarlak says in something of an apology. “But just think how much you’ve grown since you last were there. How far you’ve come.”   
  
Credence smiles, something that’s been close to impossible outside of with Percy, and even then he sees Percy eyeing him with concern most days.   
  
“Those days feel like a lifetime ago anyway,” Credence says. “What about after?”   
  
“To the usual place upstate,” Gnarlak says. “I’ll be waitin’ there already.” He squints at Credence. “You doin’ alright, Mister Barebone?”   
  
“It’s been a tiring year,” Credence says honestly. “A tiring year of putting on a charade. I’m glad it’s almost done.”   
  
“You’ll have that time off after,” Gnarlak says and smiles. “Some time to spend with your real family.”   
  
Credence gazes at him with a smile and thinks  _ you were never my real family. I was only ever useful to you, as I’ll only ever be useful to you. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ You may not turn on me but that’s not because you helped raise me. I’m your greatest weapon after all. _   
  
“Looking forward to it,” is what he says. “You’ve got everything sorted with Hemlock?”   
  
“I’ll tell you all about Mister Hemlock’s help on Christmas,” Gnarlak says. “And he has been so very helpful. You’ll see,” he adds when Credence raises his eyebrows. “See you on Christmas, Mister Barebone. It’s going to be a holly jolly one.”   
  
Credence huffs a small laugh and nods. “See you then,” he says and stands. He leaves the office and goes back home. His real home.   
  
He looks at the Christmas tree he’d convinced Percy to get, his gift for him wrapped underneath it, and thinks about Christmas morning. Something he expects to be calm and happy, while the evening will go a very different way.   
  
Credence looks at the fireplace, knowing Percy is just one jump away, but he turns to the sofa instead, sitting down and looking out of the large windows, at the grey landscape, Central Park the only bright spot in his view, dusted with snow.   
  
When Percy is home later in the evening, he asks Credence if he wants to invite the Goldsteins over again for Christmas. They might not celebrate it traditionally, but they’d come over all the same to enjoy dinner and company, they both know, and Credence almost says yes. Almost gives himself the opportunity to ruin other plans.   
  
But that’s  _ plan A, _ he knows, because there’s always a  _ plan B _ with Gnarlak, and he knows where Percy lives. Credence can’t risk anyone else getting hurt.   
  
So he tells Percy he’d like to spend it alone with him like last year, just the two of them, and Percy smiles and kisses him, and says  _ okay,  _ like it’s the easiest thing in the world.   
  
Percy will do anything for Credence and that’s been his downfall since the beginning.   
  
——   
  
Credence doesn’t sleep before Christmas morning. He stares at the ceiling most of the night, not moving, so he doesn’t wake Percy. He’s exhausted, bone tired, in a way nothing will fix, not even sleeping draughts, but he can’t stop his whirring thoughts.   
  
He’s barely been sleeping as it is and Percy still looks at him with concern, concern Credence thinks is growing every day, but that could be his imagination. It’s hard to be himself, though, hard to pretend he’s happy and everything is alright. It’s hard to look at Percy anymore, hard to touch him, but he does it anyway.   
  
Listens to his heartbeat and feels his warm hand in his own and kisses him, tasting whiskey or coffee, tasting Percy. Credence tells Percy he loves him every day, if Percy has not already told him the same, and he tells him again, when Percy wakes up on Christmas morning.   
  
They make coffee and waffles and eggs and bacon, and sit at the table, and Credence listens to Percy tell him about a Christmas he’d spent with Seraphina, after Eliza had passed away, with her family in Georgia. He says he hasn’t seen them in a while and should probably change that one of these days, with Credence by his side.   
  
Credence laughs, genuinely, at the idea of spending time with Seraphina Picquery’s family in Georgia, and tells Percy  _ sounds good to me, _ because it does.   
  
They sit on the sofa after dishes have been washed and put away and exchange gifts.   
  
Percy’s gotten him a stack of books, of course, leather-bound, all beautifully embossed with stitching in golds and greens and reds, and they’re books Credence has never heard of.   
  
“Some translations from Swedish, but I’ve always loved the stories,” Percy says. “You’ll enjoy them.”   
  
Credence smiles and looks at Percy. “I know I will,” he says and kisses him, before turning to another present and unwrapping it. He stares down at a picture frame, barely bigger than his hand, cheaply made with a crack in the glass. “Just what I’ve always wanted.”   
  
Percy laughs. “I knew you’d like it,” he says and smirks when Credence looks at him, his eyebrows raised. “That is a portkey, my love. Set for mid-January.”   
  
Credence feels his heart begin to thump a little heavier. “Oh?” he asks and smiles. “And where’s it going?”   
  
“Switzerland. Tiny wizarding village in the Alps that comes highly recommended from our dear Madam President. She says it is… picturesque,” Percy says. “It comes with one downside and that is that I already have gotten your leave approved with Mister Ibex.”   
  
“Did you bully my boss?” Credence asks as he laughs. Percy only shrugs and Credence smiles, shaking his head as he looks down at the picture frame. “Picturesque, huh?” he asks softly and bites his lip. “It sounds amazing. Thank you, Percy. That’s two vacations in four months, you know.”   
  
“I do know,” Percy says as he rubs Credence’s back. “I am a changed man. Not such a bad change though.”   
  
Credence kisses him then and lingers a bit longer, touching Percy’s cheek. When they break apart, Credence looks at him, his brown eyes, always so soft and warm, and isn’t sure if he hopes to remember them or forget them.   
  
“Open yours,” he says as he sets the picture frame on the coffee table.   
  
Percy does so, unwrapping the green and red paper, looking down at a thin, handsome box made of mahogany. “I can’t imagine what this is,” he says and opens the lid. “Shit,” he says and laughs.   
  
“I know you said one or two pairs would be fine,” Credence says. “But one or two pairs of cufflinks seems like an awful gift. So I had ten made.”   
  
“Made? They’re beautiful,” Percy says as he picks up one to examine the silver, twisting in an elegant way, like tree branches intertwined. “This is goblin made,” Percy says with surprise, looking at Credence.   
  
“Mhmm,” Credence hums. “No one works with silver like they do. I asked Mister Ibex where he’s gotten his, he likes fancy ones as much as you do. Before you complain about how much they were, they’re more than worth it.”   
  
Percy frowns for a while, probably because he knows exactly how expensive they were, before he looks down at the one in his hand, weighing it in his palm. “I have been around goblins enough to know their special brand of magic,” he says slowly. “What secrets do these carry?”   
  
Credence smiles. “The magic goblins seem to be very good at,” he says. “Detecting when things are going wrong. I don’t know exactly what they’ll do, he only said they’ll detect dark magic and warn you of it. They’re safe!” Credence adds with a laugh when Percy frowns more. “He’s an extremely reputable goblin. Mister Ibex wouldn’t have recommended him if he wasn’t.”   
  
Percy looks over the different cufflinks, each designed with elegance, not too big or showy, but the type Percy likes. “They really are beautiful, Credence,” he says. “I’ve seen plenty of their magic when it comes to detecting dark magic in Gringotts. These might just save my life one day.”   
  
“I’d rather your life was never in danger to begin with,” Credence sighs. “But maybe they will.”   
  
“Thank you, love,” Percy says quietly and brushes his thumb over a cufflink with an angular, sharp pattern carved into it, softened by the round shape of the cufflink itself. He looks at Credence and smiles before pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. “Couldn’t have asked for anything better.”   
  
“You’re welcome,” Credence says, his cheeks warm and his eyes sting, but he blinks that away. “Merry Christmas.”   
  
“Merry Christmas,” Percy says with a smile.   
  
It’s not very long after that owls come from Tina and Queenie, and Fontaine and Eldora.   
  
Queenie’s made pecan sticky rolls, which look better than any Credence has ever had, and Tina gives Percy and Credence each a book. Credence’s is one he mentioned to her over lunch, an adventure, written by a witch in Canada. Percy’s is a collection of fairy tales written by Jewish witches and wizards, something he’d definitely find very interesting, and Credence smiles and doesn’t mention the fondness in his eyes he has for his junior Auror.   
  
Fontaine gives Percy whiskey and Eldora has baked pizzelles, which smell so good that Credence can’t resist taking one. He nibbles on it and looks at a tiny photo album when Percy pulls it out of the box.   
  
There are only three pictures inside and Credence feels his stomach loop when he looks at the first one. It’s them, something he forgot Eldora took a long while ago, back at the end of spring. They had dinner with the Fontaines at their home and Eldora had insisted on a picture. Credence and Percy both aren’t fond of having their picture taken and though they’re smiling, they keep glancing at each other in exasperation.   
  
Credence laughs and looks at Percy as he shakes his head. “What good sports we are,” he says and flips the page.   
  
The two pictures there are better, because neither of them knew she was taking their picture, not at first. Sitting out on the porch in Jericho, Credence’s hand on Percy’s thigh as he talks emphatically with Fontaine, who is not in the picture. Credence thinks it’s the casual intimacy that caught her eye. Percy’s arm is slung around Credence and they glance at each other occasionally, smiling.   
  
The last picture was only a couple months ago, when they’d been over for dinner again, and were stealing a kiss at some point in the kitchen. Credence waves up at them after while Percy gestures rudely until Credence hits his shoulder.   
  
They laugh for a while as they look at the pictures. “We need more pictures together,” Percy says warmly. “Some we actually mean to have taken.”   
  
“Yeah,” Credence agrees with a sigh. “We really do. Way more than three pictures.”   
  
Percy had already given Fontaine and the Goldsteins their gifts the night before because he couldn’t convince Brooks to drop by in the morning to pick them up. Christmas is a day off for him too and he seems to have turned the rest of the owls on Percy as well.   
  
Credence thinks it’s hilarious and bites his lip when it crosses his mind again, and wishes things were different.   
  
Telling Percy the truth might be the best gift he could ever give him, but things have already been set into motion. There’s no turning back anymore and Credence feels an odd sort of detachment now. It doesn’t feel like tonight will actually happen, though he knows it will, and once Credence has gotten Percy out of the apartment, it’s out of his hands anyway.   
  
He only has one more step to make, he realizes, and there’s a hollowness in his chest that he thinks won’t be filled again, but Credence still feels separated from it.   
  
It’s something he’s felt before in his life, often, and he thinks about where he’ll take Percy tonight, to a place he’d felt the exact same way, and knows it’s fitting.   
  
They spend the rest of the day together reading and snacking on baked goods. Dinner is made earlier than normal, a feast too big for them, but it’s fun to cook with Percy, always has been, and they sit across from each other at the table and talk and laugh and Credence thinks about the calm before the storm.   
  
“I want to show you something,” he tells Percy.   
  
“What’s that?” Percy asks and takes a drink of his whiskey that Sera gave him, aged for seventy-five years, and something he’s not tipping back, for once.   
  
“It’s just outside of the city,” Credence says. “A place I was at a lot, when I was a kid. It feels like a good day to show you.”   
  
Percy gazes at Credence and smiles faintly. “Sure,” he says. “Anything you want, love.”   
  
Credence smiles. “Thanks,” he says. “Around eight, I was thinking, no one will be there by then. I’m sure we won’t be there long, but I want you to see it.”   
  
“Alright,” Percy says and reaches over, touching Credence’s hand, until Credence takes his. “We’ll go at eight.”   
  
Credence smiles and nods before standing. He cleans up their plates with a wave of his wand and thinks about fates being sealed and what that’s going to look like for him, by tomorrow morning.   
  
The evening goes by too quickly and Credence spends most of it sitting on the sofa, under a blanket, with a book opened on his lap. But he stares out of the windows rather than reads, watching the twinkling lights of Manhattan under dark skies, Central Park glistening white.   
  
He won’t be back here, he realizes. He doesn’t think he would be capable of walking back into the apartment without Percy but material things don’t seem so important tonight. All the same, when Percy is getting into something warmer in the bedroom, he shrinks the books Percy had given him and puts them in his pocket.   
  
Credence pulls his coat and shoes on and looks at the clock, ten minutes until eight, and feels empty.   
  
When Percy comes out of the bedroom, he wraps one of his scarves around Credence’s neck. “You’re still too pale,” he mutters. “One of these days you’ll tell me what’s on your mind.”   
  
Credence smiles. “I’ve already told you,” he says. “Stress of the job.”   
  
Percy sighs but he’s smiling. “I do know a little something about that,” he says. “Ready?”   
  
“Yeah,” Credence says and wraps his arms around Percy, squeezing him tightly, thinking it must be the last time he will. “I love you. Thanks for trusting me.”   
  
“Always,” Percy says. “I love you too, sweetheart.”   
  
Credence follows Percy out of the apartment, looking back at it before he closes the door behind himself. They take the lift downstairs and walk outside, to the alleyway. When Credence offers his arm, Percy takes it, and he Disapparates to a place familiar to him, but not somewhere he would have liked to visit again.   
  
It’s cold, the snow thicker here with no foot traffic or automobiles. It’s only a couple hour’s walk from the city, a small road leading north, in a thicket of trees. There’s an old tunnel, a couple hundred feet long, made of brick, covering a dip in the road to prevent snow buildup, likely.   
  
Percy glances around. They’re alone and besides one lamp, only the moonlight lights up the road. He looks at Credence then and there’s something hurt in his eyes, because he knows Credence well.   
  
But Credence only takes his hand and leads him to the tunnel. “I lived here for three months,” he says and smiles, just a little, when Percy squeezes his hand. “I was in Manhattan for a month after my mother kicked me out. I didn’t like the way people looked at me, especially at night. So I wandered out of the city and found this place. I slept under this tunnel. Barely anyone ever comes through it and I felt safer here than sleeping on the streets. I walked into the city every morning to try and find food or a quick job and came back every afternoon, before it got dark.”   
  
They stop in the middle of the tunnel and Credence looks around it. “It’s exactly the same,” he says wryly and looks at Percy, who is watching him, with concern and love and a bit of anger too, that he lived like this. “It’s okay though. This is where the wizarding world found me for the second time and I was given a real home after. Kind of wish I hadn’t been here through the winter but I’ve never slept another winter outside since.”   
  
Percy shakes his head as he looks around the tunnel. “Kept you from being too exposed to the crosswinds here,” he says quietly and sighs as he looks at Credence. “I’m sorry, love. That this was a place you experienced.”   
  
“I wouldn’t be the person I am if I hadn’t,” Credence says quietly. “I probably would have died, if I hadn’t found my way here. If a wizard hadn’t recognized me as one and taken me home. Nothing would’ve gone the way it has for me. I never would have met you.”   
  
Percy gazes at Credence and lifts his hand, laying it over Credence’s cheek. “I’ll never be glad for what you experienced but I am thankful every day I have you,” he says. “You’re a remarkable person, Credence.”   
  
Credence smiles. “What does that make you then?” he asks and if his voice wavers with tears, Percy doesn’t seem to think they mean anything more than this moment.   
  
“A fucking lucky bastard,” Percy says with a chuckle and moves his arm around Credence’s waist. “You know—”   
  
Percy abruptly stops talking and his brow furrows. Credence feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, because he can feel it too, the sudden sense of magic. It’s crackling on the air and Percy moves away from Credence, looking at both ends of the tunnel with a frown.   
  
“Can’t Apparate,” he says and sighs, gently.   
  
It’s not a sigh of annoyance or fear. It’s resignation, because Percy is not a stupid man, and when he looks at Credence, Credence sees that he knows.   
  
“Oh, Credence,” he says quietly.   
  
Percy’s quick with a wand and when the red curse shoots down the tunnel toward him, he already has a shield up. Credence sees wizards he knows then, at both ends of the tunnel, and he runs then, the sound of spells behind him a shock in their intensity, in their sudden appearance. They bounce off of the bricks, a crack that echoes through the trees outside, and Credence nearly slips as he gets out of the tunnel as a jet of red magic shoots past him and hits a tree, splitting it in two.   
  
They’re everywhere, Credence realizes, when he looks around. Gnarlak wasn’t going to risk Percy sending a message for help and so he’s placed more than enough witches and wizards here to take down an Auror.   
  
Even Percival Graves.   
  
“Over here, boy,” he hears a familiar, gravelly voice.   
  
Credence stumbles toward it, pulling the scarf off his neck because it feels like it’s choking him, dropping it in the snow, and moves behind a thick tree, and looks at Holt. He nods at Credence and looks back at the tunnel, which is lit with numerous jets of colorful magic, bright and horrible, and Credence sees that there are already two bodies outside of the tunnel.   
  
“Quick, isn’t he,” Holt says as he twirls his wand in his hand, watching. “You did good work, boy.”   
  
Credence has nothing to say to that and he turns away from the tunnel, shaking, breathing shallowly, and the trees and the snow become blurry. He covers his ears so he can’t hear the battle and holds in his tears as best he can. Holt squeezes his shoulder, mistaking his distress for not being used to wand fights, and Credence feels no comfort.   
  
There’s blood rushing in his ears and a scream threatens to bubble out of him, but Holt gently hits his shoulder and Credence thinks he hears  _ done. _   
  
It is quiet now, only the sound of his heavy breathing, and he lowers his hands. There are no more curses being cast, no more cracks to echo off of the trees, only voices in the tunnel, eerily warped.   
  
Credence turns around and sees Holt lumbering up the road and toward the tunnel. He doesn’t want to see, doesn’t want to see what they’ve done to Percy, but his feet carry him nonetheless. He follows Holt and looks at the bodies some of the guys he knows are dragging off to the side of the road. Left for retrieval later and when he catches the eye of a man named Joe, he shakes his head.   
  
“Six of us,” he says angrily. “He got six of us before he went down.”   
  
Credence wants to ask him what he expected, going up against the most talented Auror in America, but he merely keeps walking, until he stops at the end of the tunnel.   
  
Percy is on the ground, unconscious but alive, a cut on his forehead that’s bled enough to cover half his face, and he’s just close enough to be hit with moonlight. The blood looks black and Credence thinks it’s the most disturbing thing he’s ever seen.   
  
Holt goes through his pockets and tosses someone Percy’s MACUSA and Auror identification that he has to keep on him, for anything that might arise at any time. He pulls out something small and whatever it is, he expands it to its proper size.   
  
He barks a laugh and gestures Credence closer.   
  
Credence doesn’t want to come any closer but he only takes a few steps before Holt tosses him a small box. He frowns down at it, slate grey, and opens the lid.   
  
What glistens in the moonlight, winking at him in what must be mockery is a ring, silver, with a dark band of stone running through the middle of it. Credence feels sick and closes the box, putting it in his pocket, because if he looks any longer he will either vomit or what he’s feeling will be read too plainly on his face.   
  
“HQ,” Holt barks, his voice even more harsh than Credence has last heard it, the result of smoking two packs of no-maj cigarettes a day.   
  
He hears the  _ crack _ of Disapparation and turns away when Holt and Joey grab Percy. With a  _ crack _ they’re gone as well and Credence waits until the night is silent and unmoving, staring down at the road beneath his feet, pieces of broken brick and some spots of blood surrounding him.   
  
Credence fists his hands through his hair, gripping the strands until they hurt, and he wants to scream, but he can’t. He can’t get it out the way he wants to, just like he couldn’t say what needed to be said, and he thinks of bravery and cowardice, two sides to the same coin.   
  
He’s both, depending on who flips the coin.   
  
He Disapparates because he cannot be far behind and walks to a door hidden in the forests of Upstate New York. It’s a thick concrete door, opened with magic, and he walks inside to a familiar hallway that slopes downward, the air stale.   
  
The door closes behind him but there are orbs of light every few feet to light the way and he tries not to look at the occasional smear of blood on the ground. The hallway opens into a larger room then, with four doors that hold a mockery of interrogation rooms that can be made into prison cells easily enough.   
  
Gnarlak is there, with everyone else, and Credence sees the smears of blood disappear under one of the doors.   
  
“Ah, the star of the evening,” Gnarlak says with a grin when he sees Credence. “I’d buy you a drink, but…”   
  
There are some laughs then and Credence has never felt so out of place with these people before. He looks at faces he’s known for so many years, faces he is used to seeing as friends, but he doesn’t recognize them anymore. They’re strangers, even the ones he’s spent years alongside, and he feels like he doesn’t belong here.   
  
That this is a place he never should have come to. A place he never should have brought Percy.   
  
“Bring me any news you hear,” Gnarlak is saying to someone else. “They’ve got a short window and they had better be makin’ the best of it. Mister Barebone, with me.”   
  
Credence blinks once, twice, and looks at Gnarlak as he walks to the door and opens it. He is about to tell him he’s out of his mind, that he does not belong in there, but he doesn’t. He keeps his mouth shut and walks into the room, concrete walls and floors, with a table in the middle and three chairs.   
  
Percy is in one of them, bound tightly, his chin against his chest. He’s not bleeding anymore but he’s still covered in blood and Credence flinches and looks away.   
  
Gnarlak takes one of the seats as Holt points his wand at Percy and a soft red light falls over him, to revive him. He comes to quickly enough, looking up and squinting in the light, blinking a few times as he looks across the table, as Holt sits next to Gnarlak.   
  
“Hello, Mister Gnarlak,” Percy says, voice hoarse. “A pleasure to see you again. Tina’s going to be so disappointed.”   
  
“Aurors,” Gnarlak says. “Always too trusting.” He gestures at Credence to come closer, because he hasn’t come in much further than the door.   
  
Credence walks behind the table and looks at Percy. There’s a brief look of terror in his eyes when he sees Credence but he blinks once and it’s gone as quickly as it came, because he remembers. He looks away from Credence then, at Gnarlak, his face blank.   
  
“MACUSA is being hit as we speak,” Gnarlak says, slow and casual. “Christmas evening, building empty.”   
  
“Aurors called away,” Percy says boredly.   
  
Gnarlak chuckles and points at him. “As soon as Mister Barebone escorted you out of the city,” he says. “Set off some nice fireworks in the East Village and they came runnin’.”   
  
Credence stares at him. He hadn’t been told that. It was always a thought that Gnarlak might try to break into MACUSA, especially after he’d found the blueprints and Gnarlak had recruited Hemlock. But he didn’t know it was happening tonight and he knows it’s more than just a stealth mission.   
  
They’re going after particular information and there will be enough of them for a fight if the Aurors come back to MACUSA in time.   
  
“How’d you get them in?” Percy asks.   
  
“Heard about a secret entrance in the Auror training rooms,” Gnarlak says. “Security, right?”   
  
Percy looks at Credence then. “How clever,” he says and there’s anger, immense anger burning in his eyes, but it’s gone when he looks at Gnarlak. “Mister Barebone doesn’t have access to the training rooms. Who?”   
  
Credence slumps back against the wall and looks up at the ceiling, trying to get a hold of his racing heart, of the breath that threatens to escape him, leaving him gasping.   
  
“I would have thought your hiring process would be more stringent, Director Graves,” Gnarlak says. “It doesn’t matter who. Not to you. Not anymore.”   
  
Credence looks at Gnarlak. He’s found someone, he thinks, someone who is willing to pay a high price for access to Percy’s mind.   
  
“You’ll take what you want from MACUSA,” Percy says. “But I’m alive for a reason. What do you plan on taking from me?”   
  
“Everything, Director Graves. Everything,” Gnarlak says. “There are some circles who bid on your mind. Price kept soarin’. Someone who was able to afford it will be by later all the way from Europe to break in, take a look around, find out what you know. What Mister Barebone could never get out of you.”   
  
Percy smiles humorlessly. “Yours from the beginning then.”   
  
“Found him in that tunnel, you know,” Gnarlak says with a grin. “Me and Mister Raynes here. He was drivin’ me back to the city and we saw a little boy levitating a few pebbles. Would you have left him out in the cold, Director Graves?”   
  
“I wouldn’t have the heart to,” Percy says and looks at Credence. “Remarkable from the beginning and a tragic backstory like that? I can’t blame you for taking him in.”   
  
Credence watches Percy, tears in his eyes and he looks down at the ground before Percy can see them, can mock him for them, because he must think none of it was real.   
  
“Mister Barebone has always been a person of talents,” Gnarlak agrees. “Had to have been, to hide it all from you for so long.”   
  
“You taught him Occlumency,” Percy says as he looks at Holt.   
  
“I did,” Holt grunts. “And many other things.”   
  
“Not Legilimency.”   
  
“There are people coming who are more skilled in that magic than you and I put together, Director Graves.”   
  
“A few hours, at most,” Gnarlak says and gets out of his chair. He looks at Credence and winks, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a Dragot. He flips it to Credence and he catches it, so used to doing so. “Keep an eye on our esteemed guest for a while, both of you.”   
  
Credence closes his eyes and supposes he should have expected it. He looks at Holt when he gets up, vanishing the table and chairs, so Percy sits alone in the middle of the room. Holt moves to the wall next to Credence and sighs as he leans against it.   
  
“What are they looking for?” Credence asks quietly. “In MACUSA?”   
  
“Don’t know,” Holt says. “I didn’t ask. He’ll tell me if I need to know. Been talk about some interesting magic in the Department of Mysteries between the boys. If they can get in and find it, we’ll all get paid a pretty Sprink.”   
  
Credence turns the Dragot over in his hand, looking down at it. Magic that they know about because of him. He looks at Percy and sees that Percy is watching him, thinking the same thing, and Credence bites his cheek.   
  
“Mister Gnarlak worried this was getting to be too much for you,” Holt says. “These last couple months. Longest job you’ve ever pulled. But I knew you’d pull it off. First long job is always the hardest but you’ve been too good at this to not know what you’re doing.”   
  
Credence hums as Percy looks away. “You’re right,” he says quietly. “It’s what I’ve known for sixteen years now.”   
  
He shakes his head and looks down at the ground.   
  
Credence knows this world, grew up in it, he knows the tricks, he knows where and how and when, and he is very,  _ very _ good at getting what he wants out of people. He is good at what he does, stealing information, stealing items of importance, and getting away with it without a scratch. His face is not known except to those that Gnarlak trusts the most because he is, and always has been, Gnarlak’s greatest weapon.   
  
He’s strong. He’s caused devastation, though he has not been there to watch it, and he has changed lives. Credence holds an immense amount of power, no matter how weak and cowardly he feels sometimes, and he looks at Percy.   
  
_ So do you,  _ he thinks,  _ and I’m an idiot for not realizing that together we are more powerful than all of these people combined. _ _   
_ _   
_ _ That if I had told you the truth, you might not have locked me away, but you might have helped me break free, and I would have helped you devastate people in an entirely different way. I wouldn’t have cared about these people because I stopped caring about them when I knew you loved me, when I had real friends, when I knew what a family actually was. It can’t go that way anymore, but maybe I can get you out anyway. _   
  
“You have his wand?” Credence asks Holt.   
  
“For safekeeping until  _ interested parties _ get here,” Holt says with a smirk. “We’ll see where its loyalties lie when they’re done with him.”   
  
Credence nods and looks at Percy. He’s staring at the wall straight ahead and Credence knows his mind must be whirring, thinking of ways to escape, brushing aside what he can’t do, thinking about what he can. Credence knows he isn’t going down without a fight, even if it’s breaking into his mind, but a Cruciatus Curse always makes them break.   
  
Even Directors of Magical Security.   
  
But Credence won’t let that happen. He’s gotten them into a mess, like he’d gotten himself into a mess by falling in love, and he’s done fuck all about it, but he supposes he should start cleaning up his messes.   
  
Holt never taught him much Legilimency. It was never going to be his place to use it, he only needed to protect himself, but he  _ had _ given him some lessons. It’s been well over ten years since he’s even tried it but there’s no time like the present, as Percy would say.   
  
Credence tries. Percy’s not looking at him and he doesn’t know how to get him to that wouldn’t be suspicious, but he can’t even feel him. But he keeps trying, keeps pushing his mind toward Percy’s, the way he remembers Holt did to him.   
  
He knows how to keep his mind protected and he thinks this is opening it finally, opening it to Percy, and he pushes harder. Credence touches a solid wall and he sees Percy’s eyebrow quirk, just a little, and has a feeling he’s thinking some unflattering things about himself. Percy doesn’t look at him through and Credence grits his teeth in frustration and pushes again.   
  
Percy’s eyes flicker to him and plainly say how he’s feeling about Credence trying to break into his mind, but Holt is distracted fishing around his pockets for a pack of cigarettes.   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows at Percy but Percy doesn’t bite. He moves his hand to his forehead to rub at it, out of frustration, and so he can tap his finger against it a few times.   
  
Percy stares at him for a while.   
  
_ Read my fucking mind, that’s what I’m telling you, Percival Graves,  _ Credence thinks angrily.   
  
_ I’m reading your fucking mind, Credence Barebone, _ Credence hears and barely refrains from flinching or throwing up his walls, because Percy is there. His presence is strong, all encompassing, but he doesn’t want Percy exploring anything but what he wants to show him.   
  
So he shows Percy what he means to do and when he’s done, he puts his walls up, until Percy is gone from his mind.   
  
They stare at each other for a long moment before Percy looks away and Credence feels his heart sink, because Percy doesn’t believe him. Thinks he’s trying to trap him all over again.   
  
But then Percy nods, a slight thing, and Credence feels his heart leap. Leap with relief and leap with terror, because beyond this room, he only knows the way out.   
  
And there are a lot of witches and wizards in between them and the door to freedom.   
  
Credence looks up at the ceiling before glancing at Holt. He’s taking a drag from his cigarette, but he’s probably smoked for twenty years too long, because he coughs, an ugly sound and Credence pulls his wand when he’s turned away.   
  
He grabs Holt’s collar and Holt looks at him, seeing his wand, and Credence casts the spell, without a word. A jet of bright red light hits Holt directly in the middle of his chest and Credence holds onto him, because the magic is strong enough to nearly send them both into the wall, but Credence holds tight, thinking their lives depend on it.   
  
Once Holt has gone limp and the forward momentum has receded, Credence lowers him quietly to the floor and steps back, breathing in deeply, his arm screaming in pain and shaking. He stares down at Holt before bending down to rifle through his pockets until he finds Percy’s wand.   
  
He doesn’t look at Percy as he walks behind him, breaking the bonds with a spell from his own wand. Percy stands and turns to Credence, holding out his hand.   
  
Credence gives him his wand and looks at him, because he wouldn’t be surprised if Percy turned it on him then. But Percy doesn’t point his wand at Credence, only looks at him before gesturing at the door.   
  
“How many?”   
  
“Gnarlak won’t be out there anymore,” Credence says. “He has an office down the other way. Between eleven and thirteen, probably.”   
  
Percy raises his eyebrows and nods. “I’ve certainly faced worse odds,” he says quietly as he looks down at his wand. “Are you stepping out of that door with me?”   
  
“Do you want me to?”   
  
“I could use the extra wand.”   
  
Of course, Credence thinks, backup until he’s free and can Apparate to safety. Not anything more. If Credence falls he will not likely notice and Credence thinks it doesn’t matter. He owes it to Percy to try, even if he gets hit, because he will certainly die after that.   
  
“How attached are you to these people?” Percy asks as he rolls up the sleeves of his coat, away from his wrists.   
  
Credence frowns. “Not very. Why?”   
  
Percy looks at him then, like he doesn’t believe Credence, and he can understand that, considering where they stand. “Have you ever seen a Fiendfyre spell?”   
  
“No,” Credence says, his heart leaping into his throat. “Percy, it’s too closed in here.”   
  
“To those that can’t control it, sure. But how closed in?”   
  
“The room out there can’t be more than twelve by twelve and the hallways are narrow. You’ll be going left and straight ahead, to a concrete door that’s going to need a Reducto to get past. Someone will be inside and outside of it.”   
  
Percy narrows his eyes. “Can you hit the ones inside and outside?”   
  
Credence blinks quickly, his blood thrumming in his veins, adrenaline, and he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” he says. “Percy, Fiendfye is—”   
  
“How about,” Percy says firmly, “you let me worry about what skills I possess and I’ll let you worry about the ones you do.”   
  
Credence winces a little but he nods. “Fine,” he says. “How are we doing this?”   
  
“Open the door and walk out. Leave it open and when you feel heat, you run and take care of the door,” Percy says briskly. “My life is in your hands. Though it has been for some time, hasn’t it? How well you do will be how well I do.”   
  
“No pressure then,” Credence says, feeling faint. He wipes off his forehead and nods. What can he do, but exactly what Percy asks of him? “Percy—”   
  
“No time, Credence,” Percy says with no hint at what he’s feeling. “Go. Remember what I said. Wand in your pocket until you get into the hall.”   
  
Credence nods and though it’s the last thing he wants to do, he puts his wand in his pocket. He walks woodenly to the door and Percy moves alongside it when he opens it. Credence steps into the room and looks at the people he knew so well, not so very long ago.   
  
“Your boyfriend giving you a hard time, Cree?” Melody asks to a few snickers.   
  
Some of them are leaning against the walls, while a few talk in groups, and a few are sitting. They’ll die just like that, Credence thinks wildly.   
  
“Well,” Credence says with a shrug as he walks toward the hall. “Not the way he used to. Someone go stand with Holt, I need a breather.”   
  
“Aww,” Melody croons mockingly.   
  
Credence doesn’t see it happen, doesn’t want to see it happen, but she screams almost immediately after and Credence feels a roar of heat at his back, hotter than any fire he’s ever been near, and he runs.   
  
“What the fuck—” Joey says when he sees Credence, when he hears the roar behind him. And, always a bit of a coward, he turns his wand to the door.   
  
Credence gets there first, hitting it with a Reducto curse that blows apart the concrete, Joey with it, and he leaps over him and into the fresh air of a dark forest.   
  
“What the hell is going on?” Bren asks Credence.   
  
Credence hits him with a Stupefy and watches him get knocked backward through the air, landing some feet away. He looks at the destroyed entrance then and Percy is not far behind him.   
  
He walks over the bites of concrete and heavy, dark smoke billows out of the tunnel behind him, but the fire is gone.   
  
So is everyone who was in there with him.   
  
He’s magnificent, Credence thinks, magnificent in his work, as lethal as Credence always knew him to be, but he’s never seen it.   
  
Percy walks toward him and Credence stumbles back, thinking that Percy’s wand will find him now, but he doesn’t lift it. Credence is terrified all the same because Percy looks enraged. When he gets to Credence, he grabs his wrist, and the forest is left behind.   
  
Credence stumbles when his feet hit the ground, the unexpected Apparition throwing him off balance, but Percy’s still got an iron grip on his arm. He looks around, seeing a dark and quiet neighborhood, unfamiliar to him.   
  
There are shining Christmas trees in some windows, but it’s late in the evening, and people are either in bed or going to bed soon.   
  
“Forty-eight B,” Percy says and his tone is nearly as lethal as he is.   
  
“What?” Credence asks breathlessly as he looks at him.   
  
Percy is staring forward and Credence follows his gaze and to his surprise, a home that was not there just a mere second ago has appeared between two others. It’s dark, no Christmas lights inside, and Percy walks across the street, still holding onto Credence.   
  
They walk up a few stairs and Percy opens the door and steps into a dark, quiet house. He casts a revealing spell, but there’s no one else here, and when he flicks his wand again, a few lights turn on.   
  
It’s larger than it appears outside and it’s not decorated like a home. The front living area looks like the Auror department in MACUSA, with desks and multiple boards lining the walls.   
  
A safehouse.   
  
Credence gasps, when Percy grabs his shoulder and pushes him against the wall, roughly, and grunts as the air is knocked out of his chest. He thinks Percy is going to strike him then, one hand fisting Credence’s coat collar, but he hits the wall next to Credence instead.   
  
Percy looks like he wants to rage at Credence, wants to scream at him, wants to hurt him, but he doesn’t. He turns and walks away, briskly down the hall, and Credence gasps for air, in shock, he thinks, and tries not to go into a panic.   
  
He moves his hands over his face, pressing them hard against his skin so they might stop shaking so badly. He flinches when he hears a door slam and looks around the living room.   
  
He doesn’t know if more Aurors will come, or if they will be at MACUSA, taking care of the threat there while others look for Percy. While they look for him too, Credence realizes, until Percy has let them know he’s alright.   
  
When a Patronus runs around the corner, a lioness, graceful, and leaps through the front door, Credence knows that Percy has done that now. He thinks he must not have much time left here himself.   
  
“Credence,” Percy calls sternly. “Come here.”   
  
Credence is tempted to tell him  _ no, thank you, _ but that won’t go over well, and he wants to give Percy whatever he needs either way, no matter how frightened he is. He’ll do whatever Percy asks of him now, because he’d nearly gotten him killed, because he’d lied to him for the last year, and because he loves him.   
  
He walks down the hall and turns the corner, looking at a kitchen. There’s another hall past it and a door is open, light shining out of it and brightening the dark wooden floors. Credence walks to the door, his heart racing, and looks in.   
  
It’s a bathroom, not very large, and Percy is standing in front of the sink, wiping the blood off of his face and forehead, not even wincing when he grazes over the cut there.   
  
“What did you tell them about MACUSA?” Percy asks as he throws the towel onto the ground and gets a clean one, wetting it.   
  
“Most of what you told me about it,” Credence says quietly. “Whatever I thought would be valuable.”   
  
Percy smiles humorlessly. “The security passageway I told you about in the training rooms,” he says. “You gave them a copy of the blueprint I had in my closet.”   
  
“Yes,” Credence says and swallows dryly. “I believe Gnarlak had Hemlock go down there and see where it led to and tell them how they could get in safely.”   
  
Percy nods shortly, like he knew that already. He’d probably had Hemlock’s name in mind from the moment Gnarlak told him MACUSA was being hit.   
  
“Did anyone - Queenie, namely - tell you about anything else?”   
  
“No,” Credence says. “Well, yes, I mean. But she never told me much of value. Just about Hemlock’s affair with Missus Catts.”   
  
Percy looks at Credence then, an eyebrow raised, before he laughs, just as humorlessly. “Started that up again, did he?” he asks and looks back at the mirror. “Gnarlak threatened him but he bought him, more importantly.”   
  
“Yes,” Credence agrees and slumps back against the wall across the hall from the door. “He didn’t tell me about hitting MACUSA tonight. I don’t know why.”   
  
“He didn’t tell you, Credence,” Percy says, “because if something had happened that resulted in me finding out about it, I would have put a stop to it.”   
  
Credence frowns. Maybe Gnarlak’s trust in him was wavering after all. Holt had said he thought Credence wouldn’t be able to go through it. He must have thought Credence would tell Percy, as he should have done a long time ago.   
  
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” Percy says, and it’s mean, mean enough to hurt, “I don’t think he expected you to tell me. I think he expected me to realize you were lying to me. I knew you were hiding something, but I suppose this was the last thing that was on my mind.”   
  
Credence’s eyes sting again and he looks up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly and looks at Percy. “I’m sorry, Percy.”   
  
Percy’s holding his wand, to heal himself, but he stops and rests his hands on the sink and the way he hangs his head, something defeated in him, is going to haunt Credence.   
  
“We met almost thirteen months ago,” Percy says. “You had that long to tell me.”   
  
Credence bites his lip. “I tried,” he says. “I tried so many times. I couldn’t.”   
  
“Why?” Percy demands, not looking at him.   
  
“I don’t know, Percy. Cowardice? Fear? I didn’t want to lose you.”   
  
Percy laughs then and looks at Credence. “No?” he asks. “You would have lost me tonight, Credence, if you hadn’t decided to do the right fucking thing. Was it better losing me in a way you could forget than telling me the truth and risk losing sleeping with me?”   
  
“That’s not what it was all about,” Credence says angrily. “And you fucking know it, Percy.”   
  
“You chose me being killed eventually, whenever they were done with me, over telling me the truth and helping me put those people away,” Percy says. “Putting you away, I suppose. That’s what your fear was.”   
  
Credence shakes his head and digs his palms into his eyes, trying to stave off a headache. “I tried to convince myself that’s what I was afraid of a couple times, but that wasn’t true either,” he says. “I’ve been working men like you for ten years, Percy. I expected a job like this to come along one day. I didn’t expect  _ you, _ but I couldn’t tell Gnarlak I couldn’t do the job because of how I felt. I would’ve been expendable then and I wasn’t looking forward to being murdered if I did.”   
  
“You were going to accept my murder in the end,” Percy says simply.   
  
“I told myself I could,” Credence says. “I lied to myself every day about it. I couldn’t, in the end.”   
  
“Waited until the last fucking minute though, didn’t you?” Percy says and turns back to the sink. He puts his wand to the cut on his forehead and heals himself with a steady hand.   
  
Credence doesn’t know what to say. He can keep apologizing, over and over again, meaning it every time, but it’d be empty to Percy all the same. He looks down at the floor and sighs, exhaustion in his bones, the adrenaline finally leaving his blood.   
  
“You haven’t asked me what’s going to happen tonight,” Percy says as he puts his wand away and washes his hands.   
  
Credence frowns and looks at Percy. “I know what’s going to happen tonight.”   
  
“Do you?” Percy asks as he finishes and turns the light off. He gestures for Credence to follow him and they walk into the large kitchen. Percy turns on the light, too blindingly bright, and moves to the kitchen table, sitting down and pointing at the seat across from him.   
  
After sitting across from Percy, Credence wonders how long it will be before others get here. He’s positive Percy told them where he is and they will come to look for him, to make sure he’s alright, and Percy will tell them what Credence has done.   
  
Of course Credence knows what’s going to happen after that.   
  
He merely looks at Percy and waits for him.   
  
Percy stares at Credence for a while. “You’ve known this night was coming for the last few months.”   
  
Credence nods. “Yes. A week after we got home from Canada.”   
  
“That’s when you started looking the way you did. Pale and haunted,” Percy says and shakes his head. “That’s why you’ve barely been sleeping these last few weeks especially. You still didn’t tell me.”   
  
“I’m not good at telling people the truth even if it would get me out of a bad situation,” Credence mutters. “It’s not my excuse. I don’t have one. But it’s something that’s apparently carried over from my childhood.”   
  
“You were supposed to be better than what your childhood made you.”   
  
Credence smiles, bitterly. “I thought I was until I met you.”   
  
“You were trying to tell me in the cabin.”   
  
“Yeah,” Credence says tiredly, looking down at the table. “I tried to write it out as a letter. I tried to let Queenie read my mind when I realized I was never going to be able to get it out otherwise. I thought about running away once or twice, out of New York. I’m not the strong, remarkable person you thought I was, Percy.”   
  
Percy doesn’t say anything for some time. “You’re not as infallible as the rest of us, I suppose,” he finally says.    
  
Credence frowns and looks up at him, confused.   
  
“People make mistakes, Credence,” Percy says. “Every single one of us makes mistakes.”   
  
“My mistake killed people,” Credence says harshly. “Don’t fucking start pretending any of what I did was forgivable. I nearly got you killed. If any Aurors are dead tonight, that’s on me.”   
  
“Yes, in some part,” Percy says. “But I don’t expect any Aurors to be dead.”   
  
“Why?”   
  
“Because Gnarlak said he set off fireworks. He was distracting my department, not forcing them into a bloodbath that would have called every wand within a few hundred miles of here to be in New York City tonight. He wanted to distract them and keep them occupied, nothing more.”   
  
“You can’t know that.”   
  
“Credence, I’m afraid you have vastly underestimated me numerous times tonight. It’s my fucking job to know that.”   
  
Credence looks away. “Fine,” he sighs. “Alright. Are we waiting on them to come here?”   
  
“No.”   
  
“...why?” Credence asks slowly as he looks at Percy. “They’ve got to be losing their heads not knowing where you are.”   
  
“They know I’m in a safehouse and safe,” Percy says. “That’s all they needed to know to focus on what’s happening at MACUSA instead. My message will have sent them home and by now if the intruders aren’t dead, they’ve been captured.”   
  
“And they’ll wonder why you aren’t there to start interrogations.”   
  
“I told them I was laying low for a couple hours,” Percy says. “Because I wanted to talk to you. And because I want to give you the choice of how this is going to go.”   
  
“The choice,” Credence repeats dully.   
  
Percy smiles vaguely. “Out of the options I give you.”   
  
Credence puts his head in his hands for a while before dropping them and looking at Percy.  _ “Your _ best choice is throwing me in a cell alongside all the others.”   
  
“Professionally, maybe,” Percy says. “Personally? Not so much.” He holds up his hand when Credence tries to argue. “You think I want to send you to prison and watch you rot away for years there?”   
  
“That’s… but that’s what you should fucking do, after what I’ve done!” Credence says. “Don’t put your entire job and your own damn life at risk for me, Percy!”   
  
Percy shakes his head. “The people who know are criminals. They may happily tell anyone who will listen about your involvement in this,” he says. “And they may not. You would know that better than I would.”   
  
“You killed the one person that could get them to shut up.”   
  
“Gnarlak?” Percy asks and smirks. “I imagine he’s still alive. I left the other end of the hallway untouched for that purpose.”   
  
Credence stares at him and tries not to think about the control he has over a spell that’s nigh uncontrollable. “Okay, but he’s going to know it was me that got you out of there. He’ll tell them to talk about me as much as they want.”   
  
“Will he?”   
  
Credence opens his mouth, then closes it. If Gnarlak is still alive, he could encourage everyone to squeal on Credence, but he wouldn’t, Credence realizes. As a courtesy, because Credence knows everything. His greatest weapon, even against Gnarlak himself. He will try to keep Credence’s involvement out of the Aurors’ eyes with the hope that Credence has the professional courtesy to offer it in return.   
  
He looks at Percy, who is smiling, bitterness to it, but something else too.   
  
“I think Gnarlak will keep his mouth shut, even if I throw him in a prison cell,” Percy says. “And he’ll make that hard for me to do. Impossible, maybe, because if he stays with other goblins, they’ll never hand him over. But he has immense influence, you know that, and even if people start saying your name, I’m the one with the final say, am I not?”   
  
Credence moves his hand over his forehead. He’s beginning to feel wired again, like he could leap up and run, run for a very long time, run until his knees gave out.   
  
“It’s too much of a risk,” he says. “Just to keep me out of prison. I’ve already put you at enough risk, Percy. I don’t want to be responsible for more.”   
  
“That’s one option,” Percy says. “I could arrest you and interrogate you, cast a guilty vote in Court and send you to prison for a very long time.” He shrugs. “I could also make sure your name stays away from the people who could do that to you as well and you can go out there and do better for yourself. Get away from the Gnarlaks of the world and be the successful young man you’ve been for a year now on your own.”   
  
Credence shakes his head but Percy isn’t done.   
  
“Or I can give you complete immunity and hire you to work in my office. Root up the city as you know it and make it something better,” Percy says.   
  
Credence gapes at him. “When… when I said that, you said the person that did that would be dead in six and a half months.”   
  
“There are ways to ensure that doesn’t happen, Credence.”   
  
“I don’t want to live my life in hiding, Percy. Because if I betray the circles that do know me, including Gnarlak, I will have to.”   
  
“You would,” Percy agrees. “There’s a better option than that.”   
  
Credence glares and crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re protecting me when you shouldn’t be. I don’t want you to, Percy,” he says. “If you’re giving me those three options, I choose the one I deserve.”   
  
Percy peers at Credence for a while. “Alright, Credence,” he says quietly. “If that’s what you want.” He sighs. “I’m going to check in at MACUSA and see what the situation is. It is within your best interest to stay here. Do not go to the apartment.”   
  
“I didn’t plan on it,” Credence says quietly. “Why though?”   
  
“Why?” Percy asks as he stands, his eyebrows raised. “Why, Credence? Because my apartment is compromised. All of our homes are compromised until we know what information your associates have. I’m sure mine has been compromised from the beginning. Stay here, do you hear me?”   
  
Credence swallows roughly and nods, looking down at his hands. Tears are in his eyes again, because that wasn’t something he had thought of, but he realizes it’s true. Queenie and Eldora and Seraphina will be out of their homes, late on Christmas, if it’s still Christmas, because of a shakeup that he’s helped orchestrate.   
  
“I will be back as soon as I can be,” Percy says and turns away.   
  
“Percy,” Credence says quietly and hates the way his voice trembles. But Percy stops all the same and Credence can feel his gaze. He reaches into his pocket and hands him the small grey box. “Holt found it on you and gave it to me. I don’t want to hold on to this anymore.”   
  
Percy doesn’t move for such a long time that Credence thinks about begging him to take it. But he finally reaches forward, taking it from Credence, and he doesn’t say anything. He merely turns and leaves, out of the house, and Credence folds his arms on the table.   
  
He puts his head on them and cries. Cries now that he’s alone and can get it out and if tears turn into a scream, a scream loud enough to fill the house, there is no one around to hear it.   
  
——   
  
Credence thinks about leaving. Thinks about running away, now that this is all over, and disappearing. He knows how, he’s been taught how, to abandon everything at the drop of a hat and start somewhere new.   
  
He could do that. He could go to someone who could get him an unauthorized portkey, take it across an ocean, and become someone else. Become someone with scruples, maybe, someone who merely works hard and lives a humble life. Stays out of trouble.   
  
It’s so tempting that Credence finds himself at the front door, staring down at the doorknob with his hand hovering over it. He blinks quickly, not likely to escape tears anytime soon, and pulls his hand back.   
  
Percy told him to stay here. Credence has a feeling that Percy would also understand, maybe even approve of him disappearing, so neither of them would have to think about the possibility of seeing each other again. Percy wouldn’t have to worry about Credence causing trouble and Credence would never have to hear his name, see his face, ever again.   
  
Merlin, he wants to. His vault has more than enough coin in it to lead a safe life and he wants to leave, find a place to stay until the bank opens, and then get out of New York.   
  
But Percy told him to stay.   
  
Credence runs his hands through his hair and walks away from the door. He wanders around the home, looking at an office and some sort of conference room. He goes upstairs, where the home is more normal, with bedrooms and bathrooms that are well stocked.    
  
He walks back downstairs and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. He sits at the table after, as much as he feels like he should be moving, should be leaving, and waits. Waits for however long it will take.   
  
The Patronus nearly makes him jump out of his skin, when he sees its light down the hall and she leaps onto the table in front of him. Her eyes are brilliantly white as she stares at Credence.   
  
“They hit us harder than I was expecting for the short time I was unavailable to assist. Sit tight. It’ll be sun up before I can get back,” Percy’s voice says, as clear as if he was right in front of Credence.   
  
The Patronus fades away and Credence puts his face in his hands. He doesn’t know if everyone is safe, if anyone has died because of him, Aurors he knows now, Fontaine and Tina and Barrows and Jauncey. It makes him feel ill and he would scoff at the idea of sitting tight, but he has no other choice.   
  
Credence goes back upstairs and finds a bed to lie down in, because he’s stiff at the table and the clock reads three in the morning.   
  
He must fall asleep, because when he opens his eyes, abruptly, the sun has risen, and he hears a noise downstairs. Credence sits up, pulling his wand, his heart racing, but there is only one set of footsteps below.   
  
They walk up the stairs, slowly, and when they’re on the landing, Credence knows them.   
  
“It’s me, Credence,” Percy’s voice says from the top of the stairs and he sounds exhausted.   
  
Credence lowers his wand and looks down at it, his heart steadily beginning to come down again, and he realizes he will not stop feeling jumpy, feeling terrified, for a long while yet.   
  
Percy walks down the hall and Credence looks up at him when he moves into the doorway, leaning against it. He’s in the same clothes, bloodstained, and he looks as tired as Credence feels.   
  
“Is everyone safe?” Credence asks, fear wavering his voice.   
  
“Yes,” Percy says briskly. “A few injuries but no need to visit St Lyptus’. A few of theirs are dead but most are locked in the cells now. They’ll be there until interrogations are done and sent to prison to await their trials after that.”   
  
Credence nods, biting his lip. “Okay,” he says quietly. “What… what happened?”   
  
Percy smiles wanly. “They hit the President’s office, the Auror department, Records, and the Department of Mysteries.”   
  
Credence gapes at him. “How many were there?”   
  
“Enough,” Percy says. “All with different goals in mind. They were contained before they could escape with the information. I made sure of that myself during some interrogations. But they would have come out of it with plenty of sensitive information if my team hadn’t gotten there in time. Sensitive information they couldn’t have found without your help. Obliviations are taking place as we speak. The Department of Mysteries is not an easily accessed place and a few Unspeakables had to come in to retrieve those that were lost there. It’s designed to not be easily broken into, Credence,” he adds when Credence only continues to gape at him. “They’re lucky they didn’t touch anything.”   
  
Credence swallows and slides back on the bed, pressing back against the wall. “So no one got away,” he says quietly and can’t quite believe their luck. Not his, but Percy’s and the Aurors. He knows what Percy said about him is true, but he has every right to remind Credence of what he’s done.   
  
“Not all were contained inside MACUSA,” Percy says and sounds annoyed. “Someone must have told them my apartment was the only open fireplace from my office.”   
  
That makes Credence grimace and he looks at Percy, not knowing if he should say he’s sorry. “They were in the apartment?”   
  
“Fontaine had an inkling when he saw how my office had been ransacked and they came down hard on it. It’s not pretty,” Percy says. “But they were captured.”   
  
“Stupid of them to even go in,” Credence says quietly. “I’d already given them everything.”   
  
Percy huffs a dry laugh. “They thought I was never going to step foot in there again. Of course they’d want to prowl around my home if they had the opportunity to,” he says and shakes his head. “But at the end of the day… or the beginning of one, we call this a success in my department.”   
  
Credence supposes he can see why and he nods. He rubs his hands over his eyes and looks up at Percy. “I’m ready to go,” he says. “I can’t sit in here anymore. I want this to be done.”   
  
Percy watches Credence for some time before he nods shortly. “Then let’s go,” he says and turns, disappearing down the hall.   
  
Credence looks down at his wand. He turns it over in his hands and realizes he will lose this too. His wand will never be seen again, taken and picked apart before it’s destroyed or repurposed. He thinks it might be as devastating a loss as freedom will be.   
  
He stands and tucks it away in his pocket and walks out of the bedroom. He goes downstairs, where Percy waits for him, near the front door. Credence finds it’s hard to look at him and looks at his shoulder instead.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he says softly, because he doesn’t think he’ll get a chance to say it after this. He’ll never be alone with Percy. “I’m sorry that I did this to you.”   
  
“So am I,” Percy says and there’s a roughness to his voice that hasn’t been there since it all began. “We’re defined by our choices, Credence.”   
  
Credence doesn’t think he needed the reminder. “I know that,” he says and sniffs. “Please, Percy, I’m ready.”   
  
Percy hand twitches at his side, almost as if he meant to reach for Credence, but it tightens into a fist instead. He opens the door and they step out into the early winter morning. The sunlight is nearly blinding reflected off of freshly fallen snow but Credence stares at Percy’s back as they walk down to the last step. Percy offers his arm.   
  
Credence takes it.   
  
With a  _ crack,  _ they are no longer in the quiet neighborhood, and Credence looks up, expecting to see the Woolworth Building, but he sees bare trees and a long road, snow piled high on either side of it. His heart skips a beat and he looks behind him, at a familiar tunnel, before he looks at Percy, his eyes wide.   
  
“Percy,” he says frantically, because he doesn’t know what this means. Because it’s not MACUSA, because of what it means to both of them now. He gasps when Percy grabs the collar of his coat tightly, like last night, and yanks him closer.   
  
“This is where it began for you,” Percy says angrily. “This is where you made a choice and took a certain path. This is where it’s going to begin for you again. You’re going to leave here and start over. You’re going to take a different fucking path and  _ be better.  _ Do you understand me?”   
  
Credence is crying, hot tears on his cheeks and he reaches up, grasping Percy’s wrist as he stares at him. “Percy, please. Please, please don’t do this. Don’t. You know what you should do, please, don’t—”   
  
“Be better,” Percy says and there are tears in his eyes too. He moves his hand down and grasps Credence’s tightly before he pulls away. “Your life is in your hands now. Make it worth living.”   
  
“Percy,” Credence begs. “Don’t do this. I don’t deserve this, please, Percy, take me back—”   
  
“If you ever walk into MACUSA again, Credence,” Percy says, his voice eerily calm now, deadly, “you will regret it.”   
  
“Percy,” Credence whispers.  _ “Please.” _   
  
“Goodbye, Credence.”   
  
“Percy!” Credence cries, but he’s gone.   
  
And Credence knows, knows with all his heart, he will never see him again. He stands there, shaking, gasping for breath, tears burning in his eyes. He is sorely tempted to follow, to go to MACUSA, to give Percy no damn choice, to tell the truth and ensure he is put in prison.   
  
Percy is risking his life by letting Credence go.   
  
But how much more choice can Credence take away from him?   
  
Credence blinks until the tears in his eyes fall and looks down at a piece of paper in his hand, that Percy had pressed there. There’s an address on it, familiar to him, familiar enough to hurt, like an icy dagger straight through his heart.   
  
He looks up at the empty road in front of him and puts the paper in his pocket. Credence walks forward, his knees feeling like they will not support him much longer, but he walks to the tree he had been behind last night and looks around the freshly fallen snow.   
  
He kneels and digs through it for a while, until he can’t feel his fingers, but he sees a thread of dark fabric and quickly brushes the snow off of it.   
  
Credence lifts the scarf, stiff and damp, but it’s not torn or otherwise dirty. It’s survived the night better than he has, he thinks, and he balls it up and puts it in his coat.   
  
Once he’s wiped his tears, Credence Disapparates, and appears in a familiar alley. It hurts in a way he never imagined anything could hurt, when he looks at the spot Percy had pressed him against the wall, gently so, so he could kiss Credence for the first time.   
  
Credence looks away, further down the alley, and sees a familiar piece of luggage. The one Percy had given him to pack for their trip to Canada. He walks to it and kneels, opening it and looking at his belongings inside. All of them, whatever Percy had found in the apartment, shrunk to fit, and Credence blinks more tears away.   
  
Percy is giving him the opportunity to leave here. To leave the city, the way he wanted to in the early hours of the morning, to leave and find something else. To get away from it all, get away from Percy, so they might never see each other again.   
  
And what can Credence do, but give Percy exactly what he wants?   
  
He owes him that, at the very least.   
  
Credence Disapparates out of the alleyway he used so many times outside of  _ Armando’s _ and makes his way to Dragon Street to empty his vault and go looking for someone that will know nothing of what’s happened, but will give him a portkey, for a price.   
  
He will go looking for a different life, the way he should have a long time ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned this from the moment I opened the gdoc but 😬


	4. Chapter 4

Credence finds a portkey out of New York three days later.  
  
It takes him across an ocean to the heart of London. A good part of the city is still recovering from the flood not even a year ago and Credence realizes within weeks that, despite being at home in the city, work opportunities are few, even for wizards.   
  
He’s not about to step foot into the Ministry of Magic to look for work, because he doesn’t know what will happen to his name in America. When it’ll all come back to haunt him.   
  
He leaves London and finds a wizarding village outside of Wellingborough. It’s not large, quaint in a way he isn’t used to, and bitterly cold. But the people are polite and after speaking with some in a pub, they point him to a man that might hire him to help in the apothecary in town. It’s nestled in a wizarding street, not so dissimilar to Dragon Street, and he’s hired to organize the backroom, take in new deliveries and restock the shelves, if he’s not helping customers.   
  
Credence stays there for months. He has enough money to last a long while, even without those twenty big ones, and he stays in a tiny flat in town and tries to settle in.   
  
But it never begins to feel home. He feels like an intruder here, like he doesn’t belong and that one day someone will turn to him and say _you don’t belong anywhere,_ like Ma had said to him the night she kicked him out.   
  
Even when the snows are gone and the world blooms green with splashes of color from wildflowers and birds come back to sing their songs of spring, Credence can’t find any beauty in it.   
  
He stays in his flat and reads books in front of his bedroom window and touches the scarf he’s laid out on the windowsill as he does.   
  
Credence seeks out no news from America, avoids the _Daily Prophet_ as much as he can, and if he ever ventures into the village to sit with his fellow wizards in the pub, he never tells anyone where he came from. He lies, because if they’ve heard anything about New York, even out here, he can’t stand to hear it.   
  
He tries not to think about New York, or the apartment, or his friends. He tries not to think about his old associates, a lot of them dead now or in prison, and he tries not to think about Christmas.   
  
But Credence fails at this as much as he’s failed at everything else.   
  
There is no getting Percy out of his mind. He’d tried not to think about him at all and only caused himself worsening agony by doing so, so he’d let Percy in and doesn’t think he’ll be free of him. Not anytime soon and maybe not for the rest of his life.   
  
Ma would have called it penance. His divine punishment.   
  
Whenever Credence wakes in the morning, the sun breaking over the horizon, and looks at the small, empty space in the bed next to him, he thinks about the way Percy looked when he slept. Or the way he looked when he woke Credence with gentle hands and soft, wandering kisses.   
  
He’s used to waking up with tears in his eyes and it doesn’t ease through spring.   
  
Sometimes he feels the ghost of Percy’s touch and sometimes he hears his voice, saying Credence’s name, and he never knows if he’s awake or dreaming when it happens, but it hurts all the same.   
  
_Goodbye, Credence_ haunts him in and out of his dreams.   
  
Credence knows Percy well and he can imagine what life has been like for him. A nightmare, getting MACUSA back into shape and strengthening the weaknesses that had been exposed. Going through trial after trial to convict and put everyone away in prison for a long time. Working other cases as well, perhaps trying to track down Gnarlak or perhaps not. Diving into work, leaving early and staying late, with a glass of whiskey at his side every night.   
  
He will be keeping himself busy so he doesn’t have to think of Credence.   
  
Credence wonders if Percy moved. He thinks he would have had to, because though no one walked out with any information, Credence himself had given it. Percy was always so careful about his home and Credence thinks he certainly had to have left it.   
  
The idea that he forced him out of his home is just another thing to haunt him.   
  
In May, when he’s having a butterbeer in the pub, taking the teasing from the men he’s sitting with in good stride, one of them offers a chance to earn a nice stack of Galleons, as he puts it, to do a bit of smuggling. A few shake their heads but Credence’s heart leaps, because this is what he’s good at. He nearly accepts, nearly takes the job, but he hears Percy tell him to _be better_ then and shakes his head.   
  
He leaves Wellingborough two weeks later, to get away from the temptation, if it’s offered to him again.   
  
Credence leaves Britain and works his way through Western and Central Europe over the summer. He stays in Paris for a time, but the city is too big for him now, and he tries Belgium, but it’s not a good fit. He likes Germany, likes the look of the old cities and towns, but there’s unrest in the country, and he leaves it too.   
  
He won’t go to Italy because that is the land of opportunity for someone like himself.   
  
There’s one place on the map he has been avoiding but as July passes him by, he finds himself staring at the name on the map he carries with himself.   
  
Switzerland.   
  
They were supposed to have experienced it together and the thought of stepping into the country without Percy is nearly unbearable, but Credence does it all the same. His map shows the wizarding towns and villages and Credence doesn’t know where Percy had intended to take him, but he chooses a town at random and makes his way there.   
  
When the train takes him through the mountains and the village of Wengen opens up before him, shining bright and green with dishes of rustic red from the roof tiles on the homes and buildings nestled in the rolling hills, Credence’s heart finally feels like it’s touched some semblance of peace.   
  
The views beyond the village, at the mountain peaks so close by, are breathtaking, and Credence steps off of the train and breathes in fresh mountain air and knows he will not be leaving.   
  
Not for a long time.   
  
The village is small but its residents are kind, warm and welcoming. They point him toward a cottage that’s empty just outside of town, at the top of a low slope of grass, the view from it spectacular.   
  
He buys the cottage and gets it into living condition with a few waves of his wand. It’s small, a living room and kitchen and a bedroom, much like his old apartment, but it’s far more than that apartment ever could have been.   
  
It’s cool here and always will be and he suspects winter will be harsh, but he finds work in a pub owned by a man named Jonas, who doesn’t seem to believe that Credence doesn’t drink, but hires him anyway. He teaches Credence how to make the drinks that are popular here, some different from the ones he knows, and he still has no desire to try any of them.   
  
There’s not much to do here beyond work and visit family and drink, so Credence’s evenings are busy and he meets most of the villagers by the end of August. They’re all a bit set in their ways, but they take to him well enough, even if they like to declare him _the American!_ any chance they get.   
  
_Run away, huh?_ Jonas had asked when Credence first met him.   
  
_Just looking for peace I’ve never found before,_ Credence had told him.   
  
_The mountains, they bring everyone peace,_ Jonas had assured.   
  
They do. It’s quiet and sleepy here and the worst thing about it is the occasional rivalry between families that he stays away from. There are no Purebloods here, but all the same, when wizarding families find a reason to not like each other, they make it known.   
  
Credence drinks the strongest coffee he’s ever had in the grass in front of his cottage every morning and looks out at the mountains, up at the blue skies, and enjoys it.   
  
Tears still find him, often and unexpectedly, and the nightmares too, the loneliness, but Credence doesn’t let it overpower him. Doesn’t let it ruin this for him.   
  
He adopts an owl that was hatched small, the woman who owns the owlery telling him he won’t make for a good post owl on account of post always being bigger than him, but Credence takes him home all the same and names him Bear.   
  
“You’re fierce as one, aren’t you?” Credence asks him, when he tells him his name.   
  
Bear is half down and half feathers and he hoots, a tiny thing, but fierce all the same.   
  
By the time October is ending, Bear can deliver post just fine.   
  
“Too bad you can’t fly over an ocean,” Credence tells him one night when he’s lying in bed, reading a book, Bear huddled against his neck for warmth.   
  
Bear hoots and it sounds like a question.   
  
“I suppose it would be a bad idea to send a letter anyway,” Credence says and the words of his book are blurry but he blinks until he can see them again and ignores the warmth on his cheeks.   
  
Snow comes early here and it’s glittering across the village before the first week of November has even passed. Credence is glad for his warm cottage and the warm pub then, because he doubts he’ll be spending much time outside.   
  
A snowstorm hits one night, around six in the evening, and Credence is behind the bar, looking out of the windows.   
  
“Don’t expect anyone to stay home,” Jonas tells him with some amusement as he waves his wand, sending a pint of beer down to the end of the bar. “They only Apparate to the door rather than walk.”   
  
Credence smiles as he leans against the warm cherry wood of the bar, freshly wiped down and shining. “I suppose no one wants to miss out on a steaming stout.”   
  
“No one but you, yes?” Jonas says as he leans against the bar next to Credence. He smiles. “The American runaway and thus the only one here who does not drink.”   
  
“Something that you all continue to find fascinating,” Credence says with a laugh. “If I start drinking, I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”   
  
“Ahh. Well this is a problem then,” Jonas says. “Who was she?”   
  
Credence smiles and looks out of the windows, shrugging.   
  
“He?”   
  
Credence shrugs. “It was the city,” he says. “I couldn’t stay there anymore. A tale as old as time,” he adds when he looks at Jonas, who is peering at him with interest.   
  
Jonas is a man around Percy’s age, with dark brown hair and thick stubble on his face. There is no MACUSA or Ministry to insist on cleanly shaven cheeks here. He’s handsome, blue eyes bright, but most of all, he’s always been kind.   
  
The first friend Credence had made here but he still hasn’t told Jonas much about himself, as much as Jonas asks. He’s afraid that his vulnerability, so close to the surface these days, would be exposed and he’d only be someone to be pitied afterward.   
  
He doesn’t think he could stand it.   
  
“A tale as old as time,” Jonas agrees. “And yet no Americans have ever come here before. You came to the top of the Alps to get away from the city. The city must have wounded you very much.”   
  
“I think it was me who left my mark on the city,” Credence says and looks up as a man named Liam comes inside, brushing snow off of his shoulders.   
  
He holds up a finger toward Credence and Credence nods, flicking his wand at a bottle of cherry rum. It pours some into a waiting glass and Credence puts a maraschino cherry in it before sending it over to Liam.   
  
When he looks at Jonas again, it’s to see him still peering at him and he laughs.   
  
“That’s enough of my life story for the night,” he says. “Tell me yours.”   
  
“My life story?” Jonas asks and gestures around the pub. “This is my life story. My father’s pub and his father’s pub and so on. Wengen is all I’ve known, except the occasional visit to Bern or perhaps further out. But it is just me until you arrived so no holidays. Perhaps now I can take one and add to my life story.”   
  
Credence smiles. “You should,” he says. “I can run this place on my own now. Go enjoy a holiday.”   
  
“And you? Where did you enjoy holidays before?”   
  
“I’ve gone on one holiday in my entire life,” Credence says with a laugh. “And this isn’t a holiday, before you say it. This is home now.”   
  
Jonas smiles at a young couple, Ava and James, who comes to sit at the bar. He flicks his wand to get their drinks started and looks at Credence.   
  
“I hope you stay. Your first winter will decide it,” he says and winks. “You should go to the Christmas markets in Bern when they come though. Beautiful, unlike anywhere else. You may choose to stay after that.”   
  
“I’ve already chosen to stay,” Credence says with a huff. “I’m not running away anytime soon.”   
  
“I think it is not Wengen that has your heart. Not forever,” Jonas says and shrugs when Credence eyes him. “But perhaps I’m wrong.”   
  
Credence watches him move down the bar to greet their new customers and rests his chin in his hand. He thinks he shouldn’t be so easily read. That he wasn’t once upon a time ago and he should find that skill again, so maybe no one will keep accusing him of being a runaway.   
  
He’s not going to leave here, not unless he’s run out, and Credence will make sure that doesn’t happen.   
  
The skyscrapers and the city noise, the loud voices and car horns constantly blazing, the endless amount of people, men in hats holding briefcases, the smell of hot dogs and pretzels and the taste of whiskey and nutmeg and something else unique.   
  
They will always be things Credence can recall with vivid clarity, they will always haunt his dreams, and it’s a price he has to pay, to never forget them. But he thinks if he ever forgot them it might ruin him more than he’s already ruined.   
  
He works through the night, until midnight strikes, and Credence says good night to Jonas and Apparates to his cottage. He nearly gets blown over by the window on his front step, but he pushes the door open and quickly closes it behind himself.   
  
Bear flies out from his bedroom, where his cage is, and flutters onto Credence’s shoulder with a lot of happy chatter and hooting. Credence scratches his head and makes a pot of tea before sitting on his small sofa and lighting the fireplace.   
  
“In less than two months it’ll already be a year,” Credence says quietly. “Hard to believe but those first few months never felt real. I’ve been to so many places and I can barely remember them but New York is always going to be there.”   
  
Bear hoots gently and presses his beak to Credence’s cheek.   
  
Tears again.   
  
Credence only sighs and shakes his head. “I just wish I could talk to him sometimes. Like it never had happened. You know, the books he gave me that were translated from Swedish, a king in one of them had lost his wife and he called her _my lost love._ Everyone told him he had to move on or he’d drown in her memory. They found his robes one day, lying in a hallway, like he’d disappeared and they’d fallen in a heap. They never found him again. The girl, the main character, she spent the book looking for him and never found him either,” he whispers. “If that’s what being in love is like, I don’t know why anyone would want to be.”   
  
He brushes his cheeks off and feels Bear’s beak on his cheek if he’s not nipping gently at Credence’s collar.   
  
“The mountains bring me peace,” Credence says. “But I think I’m going to drown anyway. He was going to ask me to marry him.”   
  
The howling wind rattles his window when he lies in bed later, but he doesn’t cast any charms, merely stares at the snow rushing by, steadily building up on his windowsill, and doesn’t fall asleep until the storm begins to slow and pink light brightens the sky.   
  
Life continues on in the mountains, cold and dark and filled with snowstorms. But occasionally the skies break, brilliantly blue, and the snow glistens, soft and fluffy in mounds around the cottage and pub.   
  
Christmas comes again and Credence turns down numerous invitations to have dinner with different friends, promising he’ll be fine alone, that he just doesn’t celebrate Christmas, and by Christmas Eve they leave him be.   
  
He goes to Bern with Bear nestled inside his coat. He didn’t have the heart to leave him alone in the cold cottage or lock him outside in the wind. Bear will always be too small and he may have a thick layer of cozy feathers, but the idea of him freezing to death is too worrisome. He’s warm, anyway, tucked in Credence’s inner coat pocket.   
  
Credence goes to the Christmas markets.   
  
They’re huge and magnificent, splashes of bright colors, red and greens, golds and silvers, and he smells kettle corn and hot spiced cider, fresh pine made into garland, decorated with pinecones and holly.   
  
Numerous stands are filled with all sorts of Christmas baubles, handmade ornaments and Christmas angels, reindeer and elves, gingerbread men made of clay, baked and shining brown.   
  
Real gingerbread is at another stand, with hot chocolate and other Christmas treats, and Credence buys himself a piece of gingerbread and gets a paper cup of hot cider to warm his bones as he walks.   
  
There are many families here, children bundled up in the cold, holding the hands of their parents as they point excitedly at different handmade toys and Credence watches them with a faint smile.   
  
Credence stops at a stand where numerous blankets are folded and touches some of them, the wool soft and dyed various different colors. He blinks at one, black and white and blue, and thinks about the scarf in his bedroom that looks so similar to it. He tentatively reaches out and takes it, holding it in his hands and biting his cheek.   
  
“Zehn,” a woman’s voice says.   
  
Credence blinks and looks at the woman standing on the other side of the stand. She’s a few years younger than him, blonde and pretty, and he stares at her for a moment, thinking of another woman that’s blonde and pretty, before he processes what she’s said, too lost in thought.   
  
“Zehn,” he says. “Right, ten.”   
  
“American?” she asks with raised eyebrows.   
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Credence mutters as he digs around his pocket for the no-maj money he’d brought along. He counts out ten, idly thinking it’s expensive, but these people work hard for the wool and she’s made all of these by hand.   
  
She takes the money when he gives it to her and peers at him. “You come to Bern for visit?”   
  
Credence smiles. Her English is fairly broken but she sounds kind. “I live in the mountains,” he says. Her eyebrows shoot up and he shrugs. “I thought my ticket was German for Vienna but when I stepped off the train, it was just too beautiful to leave.”   
  
She smiles then, in amusement, before she laughs. “More beautiful than Vienna? Possibly,” she says. “You are in Bern with… family?”   
  
Credence shakes his head. “No. I’m here to see the Christmas market. Someone told me it was a sight unlike any other,” he says. “I have to agree.”   
  
“It is only busy for me,” she says. She reaches across the blankets and holds out her hand. “Emilie.”   
  
“Credence,” he says as he shakes her hand. “This is really nice, by the way.” He pats the blanket. “You knit these all yourself?”   
  
“For many months, yes,” Emilie says as she looks over her work with some pride. “My brothers get the wool and I dye and knit.” She looks at him before she flinches in surprise and puts her hand over her mouth. When Credence blinks at her, she points at him. “Your coat moved.”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows, then laughs. “Oh,” he says and looks down at the tiny bulge in his coat. He unbuttons one button and Bear pokes his head out, blinking sleepily.   
  
Emilie stares at him, both her hands over her mouth, before she looks at Credence with something like wonder. “Is he pet?”   
  
“Yes,” Credence says and shrugs when Bear hoots. “And my friend.”   
  
“He is so small!” Emilie says as she gazes at Bear. “What is he called?”   
  
“Bear.”   
  
Emilie laughs for a while after that.   
  
When Credence leaves the market later in the evening and goes back to his cottage, he does so with a new blanket and a new friend.   
  
The blanket keeps him warm through the worst of January, laid over his bed, if not curled around his shoulders on the sofa, and it matches the scarf perfectly on his windowsill. He lays in bed often, holding onto it while curled under the blanket, and can’t decide if it’s a little pathetic or if he shouldn’t give a damn, because no one is around to judge him, and it gives him comfort.   
  
He chooses the latter and it helps.   
  
Having friends helps too. Jonas is someone he sees nearly every day, as are some of the people that come into the pub, and sometimes he goes down to Bern to visit Emilie. He fears for a while that she might be interested in him, but she introduces him one day to her boyfriend, and it puts him at ease. He’s invited to dinner with her family often, her mother and father as kind as she is, her brothers a few years younger than her, good men that work hard.   
  
It’s good, Credence thinks. The best he could have hoped for. Starting over fresh with new friends, good friends that he can rely on, and he would call them family, if something wasn’t stopping him.   
  
If he didn’t look at Emilie’s blonde hair and dimpled smile and think of Queenie, if he didn’t look at Liam in the pub and think of Mister Fontaine. If he didn’t go to sleep every night under a blanket that matched the last scarf Percy had wrapped around his neck, on Christmas night, and told him he loved him a moment after.   
  
It’s been over a year and sometimes Credence wakes with tears in his eyes and feels like only a day has passed and nothing has truly eased the pain he carries.   
  
He doesn’t know if anything will beyond the passage of time and sometimes he finds that he wants time to stop moving altogether, but he keeps himself busy when those thoughts come, and visits a friend to complain about the snow and the way David keeps sending letters to everyone to warn them about wraiths in the cemetery that most definitely don’t exist.   
  
Jonas and Credence had looked for themselves.   
  
One morning, on February 7th, Credence gets a knock on his door. He walks to it and opens it, looking at Elias, who is holding a thick cardboard envelope in his hand.   
  
He works the village’s post office and he smiles at Credence. “International post just for you,” he says and hands it to Credence. “I haven’t seen one of these in years.”   
  
Credence blinks at him and feels his heart in his throat as he takes it. “Oh,” he says. “Thanks for bringing it to me. You didn’t have to.”   
  
“I’ve never seen mail from New York! The most exciting thing to happen in months,” Elias says with a laugh. “Big news, huh? Good day, Credence!”   
  
“Bye,” Credence says breathlessly. He closes the door and walks into the kitchen, setting the envelope down on the table and sitting down. He stares at it for a while, at only his name written on the outside by someone working with owls, and finds he doesn’t want to open it.   
  
Bear flutters into the kitchen and lands on the table, peering at the envelope and up at Credence, blinking his wide eyes.   
  
“It’s from New York,” Credence says quietly.   
  
Bear chatters excitedly, picking up the edge of the envelope and dropping it closer to Credence.   
  
“Oh, it’s easy for you,” Credence says and smiles a little when Bear hoots.   
  
But it gives him the courage to reach forward and open it. He reaches inside and pulls out one thick letter, looking down at it, and he inhales sharply, because he recognizes the handwriting on it.   
  
Credence puts his hand over his mouth as he stares down at his name scrawled in looping letters before he squeezes his eyes shut. He takes a moment to simply breathe before he opens the letter with trembling hands and reads it.   
  
_Credence,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Hi honey! I sure hope this reaches you. I’m relying on owls and their magic to find you, but I don’t know if they will, depending on where you are. I’ve tried to write to you but they always come back so I turned to owls who know the way to get something across an ocean to someone only they can find._ _  
_ _  
_ _I think that’s where you must have gone. Europe, I hope, what a place! I met someone last year and he’s not a man that’s ever left Brooklyn, but I think I might convince him to take me across Europe someday._ _  
_ _  
_ _Teenie and I talk about you often. We miss seeing that face of yours. I have a feeling you won’t believe me but it’s true. Just isn’t the same without you around._ _  
_ _  
_ _He told us what happened not long after it did. But we all knew your heart, maybe better than you did for a while, and I wanted you to know that you’re still loved. I hope you’ve found some place that’s more beautiful than here and I hope you’re smiling while you’re there._ _  
_ _  
_ _Merlin knows I’d like to see that smile again someday._ _  
_ _  
_ _You don’t need to write me back but if you ever want to, here’s the address. Not that I expected you to forget but nothing much has changed while you’ve been away._ _  
_ _  
_ _Teenie’s telling me that this one won’t find it’s way to you either but I told her hogwash. This is the one that you’ll get and I believe that._ _  
_ _  
_ _We miss you. All of us. Mister Fontaine asks Teenie sometimes if we’ve heard from you and will only say it’s because he wants to arrest you, but she says he’s a bad liar when it comes to you._ _  
_ _  
_ _Don’t ever think you’ve been forgotten, huh? You might want us to but that’s not something any of us are capable of._ _  
_ _  
_ _We love you and hope you’re safe and happy and comfortable, all the things you deserve to be._ _  
_ _  
_ _Love from NY,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Queenie_ _  
_ _  
_ _1-16-30_   
  
_p.s. We’re all doing okay here, not much has changed for most of us after all, but I know I’m not the only one who walks through Woolworth and hopes to see your smiling face one day._   
  
The words blur on the paper occasionally as he reads and when Credence is done, he sets the letter down and leans back in the chair. He brushes his cheeks off and sniffs and feels his heart thundering away and isn’t sure if it can handle much more heartbreak.   
  
Bear hoots sadly and flutters onto Credence’s shoulder. He scratches his head and glances at the letter before pulling it closer. He reads through it another time and there are more tears, but it’s not such a shock now.   
  
Credence doesn’t want to read into anything she’s said too closely, he can’t for the sake of his own sanity, but there’s something that warms his heart, to know they’ve forgiven him.   
  
They shouldn’t have, but he can’t make that choice for them.   
  
Queenie’s right. He hoped they would forget him, move on, pretend he never existed, but he supposes they’re all only human. Not so infallible.   
  
He’s never thought he was worth looking twice at, not unless he was trying to work someone, and he knew when Percy said he was remarkable that it had been because of a lie Percy had believed was true. Credence has never been remarkable, has never been special, had never touched the lives of anyone in a meaningful way until he met Percy.   
  
His first instinct is to write her back and tell her to forget him, to take back her forgiveness, to not write to him because he’s not worth it, nor does he deserve it.   
  
Credence nearly summons the pen and paper to do just that but Bear nips his earlobe and the sharp pain shocks him enough to forget the idea for a while. Bear takes his scolding and merely turns his head away until Credence sighs.   
  
“I know a different owl you’d get along with,” he mutters.   
  
He takes the letter into his bedroom and puts it on the windowsill, on top of the scarf, and decides to sleep on it, rather than making any rash decisions.   
  
Not that he gets any sleep after he’s home from the pub and has read through the letter a handful more times.   
  
——   
  
_Queenie,_ _  
_ _  
_ _You’re right that the letter you thought would reach me did. It was a surprise, I’ll admit, and one I never thought I’d get. I never thought to hear from anyone in New York again._ _  
_ _  
_ _Some part of me hoped I never would. You know me well._ _  
_ _  
_ _I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven for what I did and I don’t think I deserve anyone’s love, most of all, because it was everyone’s love that I betrayed. I find it hard to reconcile that with myself most days. You and Tina might forgive me, but I certainly won’t forgive myself._ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m sorry, all the same, for the pain I caused. I wish I had been smarter and that I had trusted every one of you more. It could have been different if I had, but it doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that everyone is alive and well._ _  
_ _  
_ _I’m happy for you, to have someone, and I’m glad to know everyone is well. I do think Mister Fontaine would arrest me even if I was on the other end of the galaxy and he found me._ _  
_ _  
_ _My journey was a long one, getting to where I am now. But it’s beautiful here, in the mountains, in a little wizarding village with people who are kind and who gave me the chance to share my life with them. It’s a small place but a stunning one, so different from New York, but if I was to choose another home, it’d be this one._ _  
_ _  
_ _Time heals all, as they say, and I hope to find that to be true one day. But it’s only been just over a year and it’s hard for me now, to write to you, knowing what I did. I’ve been tempted to throw this letter away and not write back at all, but I don’t want you to think I’m unreachable or that I don’t wish to hear from you._ _  
_ _  
_ _I miss you and Tina very much. I have friends but they’re not the Goldsteins._ _  
_ _  
_ _Thank you for thinking of me and know I think of you, all of you, often as well. It hurts to, but I love all of you and I will until the day I die, I suspect. It’s not such a bad thought, dying old and in the mountains, knowing I loved and was loved by good people._ _  
_ _  
_ _I do plan on staying here, as much as I would like to see your smiling face too. But I can’t go back. I won’t do that to him. I’m sorry to ask that you not come looking for me either. I need to heal and it feels like it hasn’t even begun yet. Seeing reminders of home, even you and your smile, would not help with my healing._ _  
_ _  
_ _I know you’ll understand that._ _  
_ _  
_ _I seem to be running out of paper and so I will end this with a heartfelt thank you, a warm I love you, and a hope that I might see another letter from you someday._ _  
_ _  
_ _Please give my love to Tina as well._ _  
_ _  
_ _Yours, always,_ _  
_ _  
_ _Credence_ _  
_ _  
_ _2-8-30_   
  
When Credence is finished writing, he reads through the letter a few times before deciding it’s suitable and puts it in an envelope. Bear hops around hopefully on the table as he does and when Credence turns away from him, he hops closer, puffing out his chest feathers.   
  
“The idea of you flying across the Atlantic is both funny and incredibly distressing for me,” Credence says with a smile. “It’s too long of a journey. Besides, I don’t think owls even go across the ocean. I think the post is given to something else and picked up in New York by an owl working at the post.”   
  
Bear deflates and Credence scratches his head before he puts on a coat. He leaves the cottage and goes down to the owlery to talk to Elias about getting post to New York. He gives Credence a long-winded explanation of creatures that are employed to jump oceans easily, leaving post at docks, and having it sorted there, and Credence isn’t quite sure what creatures can do that, but he accepts it all the same.   
  
Though it is rather hard to hand over the letter, not really knowing if it’ll reach Queenie. But he gives it to Elias, who seems thrilled to use a cardboard mailer, which is quite dusty when he pulls it out.   
  
Credence pays and thanks him and walks back home, through the snow, while Bear zooms around his head, looking for anything that might be moving under the snow.   
  
By the time they’re back to the cottage, he’s caught a mouse, and takes it into his cage in the bedroom to eat it.   
  
Credence doesn’t know what to expect, if Queenie gets his letter. He hadn’t put his address, but she should know how to get a letter to him now, and he wonders if they’ll write to each other regularly. Or perhaps once a year and then every few, until they stop writing altogether, because they’ve moved on.   
  
Or New York will have moved on anyway.   
  
The downside to the sleepy village he calls home now is that nothing happens. It’s quiet and peaceful, the way people here want it to be, but it leaves a lot of time for thinking.   
  
A lot of time for breathing in fresh mountain air and for having warm conversation with good people, but the nights are too quiet sometimes, too empty, too lonely. There is not much he can fill his time with when he gets back from the pub and reading book after book only helps sometimes.   
  
But as he’d told Queenie, time heals all, and Credence will allow time to pass, so he might finally find what that means for him.   
  
——   
  
A little over a month later, March is still very cold in the Alps, and skiers are still using the snowy mountainside. There’s a resort not far out of the village that caters to them, mostly no-majs but wizards too, but they don’t tend to come into the village.   
  
Credence learned early on the villagers prefer it that way.   
  
He hasn’t gotten a letter from Queenie yet, but considering it had taken three weeks to get to him before, he’s not expecting one for a while yet. He tries not to think about it because if no letter comes, he will be hurt and Credence doesn’t think he can handle much more hurt.   
  
_That which doesn’t kill us makes us stronger_ is an interesting saying, but wildly inaccurate, he’s found.   
  
Strength is subjective, Credence thinks. Some people think it means coming out of adversity and taking the world by storm, while others think it means coming out of adversity and still finding reasons to smile.   
  
He’s found reasons to smile but he will never take the world by storm, not ever again, and Credence knows he’s lucky to even be able to smile. He could be locked away in prison right now, wand destroyed, with the memory of Percy saying _guilty._   
  
That thought keeps him up at night sometimes, so Credence pushes it away.

Credence gets ready for work around three and says goodbye to Bear, who he’ll let out to hunt later, since the sky is clear and the moon will be bright tonight. It seems closer here and the night sky is so stunning every single time he looks at it that he feels perpetually breathless if he takes the time out to look at the stars.  
  
He thinks he’ll sit out after work and do that.   
  
The pub is already busy when he walks in and says hello to everyone. He gets to work, making drinks and keeping up with numerous different conversations, oftentimes shouting across the pub to do so.   
  
He and Jonas work well together, handling their patrons with ease, and find time for their own conversations as well over the next few hours.   
  
“You will introduce me to this Emilie someday, won’t you?” Jonas asks as he twirls a mug in his hands. “Emilie _this_ and Emilie _that_ every time you’ve come home from Bern. Yet you keep her away from us.”   
  
“She’s a damn Muggle,” Credence laughs. “She doesn’t know anything about the wizarding world. It’s best kept that way, I think her brothers are responsible for selling wool to every person in Bern.”   
  
“But she must be special for you to go and have dinner and stay with her family,” Jonas says. “I never thought to go to Bern and make friends with Muggles. They are often… hmm, backwards.”   
  
“Having lived as a Muggle and being on top of each other for so long in the big city, I can tell you wizards are just as backwards as them, in different ways,” Credence says dryly. “You go an hour outside of the city and all wizards seem to lose any skill in picking matching clothes.”   
  
Jonas laughs. “And yet here, we are allowed to befriend and marry Muggles,” he says with a shrug. “America has that quite backwards, don’t you think?”   
  
“Weren’t we talking about wizards versus Muggles?” Credence asks as he grabs a martini glass and slides it down the bar, bottles of vermouth and vodka following it and not spilling a drop.   
  
A cheer goes up at this and Credence holds his hands out as he looks at Jonas.   
  
“Amateur,” Jonas says. “When you’ve created a ten meter tall champagne tower without it collapsing - no magic! - then we can talk.”   
  
Credence laughs and shakes his head. “When did you make that?”   
  
“Leandra and Lorik’s wedding,” Jonas says and rolls his eyes. “Still they weren’t pleased.”   
  
“They’re never pleased,” Credence says and smiles when a few people at the bar grumble their agreement.   
  
Leandra belongs to a wizarding family that prefers to visit the bar in the resort outside of the village, looking down on a homey place like this, and Credence is glad for it. Glad to be away from high society all together.   
  
“To never creating another champagne tower in my life,” Jonas says and holds up a shot of firewhiskey.   
  
There’s a roar of agreement and stamping of glasses against tables and Credence shakes his head as everyone drinks, smiling to himself.   
  
The pub eventually begins to empty, most people off to spend some time at home before bed, but the late nighters come in after and Jonas asks Credence to fetch three bottles of firewhiskey. It’s always popular this time of year, along with Steaming Stouts, and the Swiss version of butterbeer, with a shot of preferred liquor in it.   
  
Credence walks into the backroom and grabs three bottles of firewhiskey, carrying them back behind the bar and using his wand to levitate them onto the shelves a few feet above him.   
  
“A mysterious stranger has appeared,” Jonas says with some amusement as he steps past Credence.   
  
“Emilie?” Credence asks dryly as he looks along the bar, but doesn’t see anyone.   
  
“Blonde and blue-eyed and supposedly very beautiful? No,” Jonas says. “But your type, isn’t he? Handsome, yes?”   
  
“You don’t know my type,” Credence laughs as he looks out at the floor and stops when he sees the table taken in the corner.   
  
Credence feels his heart sink into his stomach and reaches out to grab onto the small refrigerator under the counter, the air in his lungs stolen away from him.   
_  
_ _It can’t be him,_ Credence thinks with some despair, _it can’t be._   
  
But dark eyes meet his own and Credence stares at them and isn’t sure if he wants to Apparate far, far away, burst into tears, or start screaming.   
  
“Shall I curse him?” Jonas asks, perfectly serious, as he touches Credence’s back, peering at him with concern.   
  
“No,” Credence breathes, his heart slamming against his ribcage. “No, that’s… I’ll let you know later.” He looks at Jonas and can’t quite fake a smile, but Jonas nods shortly all the same and moves down the bar to serve someone.   
  
Credence turns around and flicks his wand at the top shelf until a familiar, if not often used bottle floats down. He pours the double himself but his hands are trembling too badly to hold it, he finds, and he puts it on a small tray he has more control over.   
  
Credence walks around the bar on knees that feel like jelly and blinks a few times, because the lights seem far brighter than they usually are, and the walk feels like it lasts a lifetime. But Credence gets there, blood rushing through his ears, and he can hear his labored breathing.   
  
He hopes he doesn’t look as scared shitless as he feels.   
  
He offers the tray and the glass and looks into familiar dark, brown eyes.   
  
Percy is here. In Wengen, Switzerland, dressed for the weather, as prepared as he always has been. And he looks exactly as he did some fifteen months ago, as handsome as ever, making his presence here look effortless, like he’s been coming here for ten years.   
  
Credence doesn’t know if he looks the same, but he feels out of place suddenly, like he himself has never stepped foot into this pub before, and he hates Percy then, for throwing him off balance once more.   
  
They were never supposed to see each other again.   
  
_Goodbye, Credence,_ has haunted him nearly every night since Percy said it, with utter finality, and yet here he sits, and Credence doesn’t know if he’s angry or if he should laugh, because things never work out for him. They never go the way he wants, in the end.   
  
Percy takes the glass. “Thank you,” he says quietly, gazing at Credence.   
  
And he may be skilled at hiding what he feels, but Credence still knows him, and he sees the pain in his eyes. He’s afraid he’s probably wearing it much more openly himself and bites his cheek.   
  
“Why?” he manages and can’t quite get the rest out. _Why are you here, to torment me all over again?_   
  
“Do you have a moment to sit with me?” Percy asks and his own voice betrays nothing of how he’s feeling. It’s only calm and polite, giving Credence the chance to say no, if he wants to.   
  
Credence looks across the pub at Jonas, who is peering at him, protective, and holds up five fingers until Jonas nods. He turns away, but Credence knows he’ll be watching, and it might make him laugh, to think of Jonas attempting to kick Percy out of the pub.   
  
Though he’d probably go without a fuss, Credence thinks glumly.   
  
He slides into the seat across from Percy and feels a cold sweat on his lower back, on his forehead. His heart is racing and he rubs his hand over his eyes before looking at Percy.   
  
“How did you find me?” Credence asks but he’s already thought of the answer. “Queenie.”   
  
Percy smiles shortly. “She’s kindly told me about attempting to reach you throughout the last year. But she gave me the letter you wrote to her about five days ago,” he says quietly. “Told me to do something about it.”   
  
Credence wishes Queenie was here, so he might yell at her for a while, but he supposes he can’t be too angry. A little angry, but he should’ve known she would tell Percy. He hadn’t asked her not to.   
  
“So this is a personal visit,” Credence says. “Not MACUSA.”   
  
Percy frowns then, like it might have hurt him, but Credence hasn’t got any idea why it would. “I did not come here on MACUSA business,” he says. “I came here because I wanted to see you.”   
  
“You could have written,” Credence says and he’s a bit mortified there are tears in his eyes, in his voice. He shakes his head and blinks them away. “What gives you the right to tell me leave and never see you again only for you to show up here?”   
  
“Maybe I don’t have the right,” Percy says. “But if I had written to you, you wouldn’t be here when I came.”   
  
Credence looks down at the table and shrugs. “Probably not,” he agrees. “If you read that letter, you know I told Queenie I didn’t want her to come see me. You know exactly why I told her not to.”   
  
“I do,” Percy says and he’s holding onto the glass still, running his thumb along it, but he hasn’t taken a drink yet. “I realized that you and I feel much the same about why you didn’t want her to come here.”   
  
Credence furrows his brow and shakes his head. “You haven’t found healing yet?” he asks and he can’t help the bitterness in his voice. He’s not able to look at Percy. “Then you should know the other part was true too. That seeing me won’t help you find it either.”   
  
“I might have believed that before I read your letter,” Percy says evenly. “But the pain in your words is the same pain I feel every damn day of my life. You and I share that, Credence.”   
  
Credence flinches to hear his name from Percy’s mouth. “Pain that I caused both of us, Percy,” he whispers and brushes his cheek angrily when he feels a tear fall down it. “I can’t be the person to heal it for you.”   
  
Percy is quiet for a long while. “I’m not asking you to heal me, Credence,” he says. “But I think we might be able to find some healing together.”   
  
Credence is trembling and he puts his hands in his lap, clasped tightly together as he stares down at the table. He bites his lip when it wobbles. “You were right to tell me to leave,” he says. “You were right to tell me to start over and be better. That’s what I’ve done. I’ve done exactly what you wanted me to do. I can’t end all of that because you hope we can… we can be where we were before. I can’t trust that because I know the resentment and the never ending lack of trust that comes with betrayal. I won’t put myself through that either.”   
  
“You think I carry any resentment toward you?” Percy asks. “You made a grave mistake, Credence. Many of them. But I don’t resent you. If I resented you, if I didn’t trust you, you would be in prison right now.”   
  
“You made a stupid decision when you were upset to not put me there to begin with.”   
  
Percy chuckles. “I made a decision out of love, but I’ve never thought it to be a stupid one. I would choose the same thing today.”   
  
Credence looks at Percy and sees the same affection in his eyes that had sent him into a downward spiral at the beginning of it all. He sniffs and shakes his head. “Don’t make the mistake of loving me, Percy. I might not be in the same circumstances I was when I met you but you shouldn’t trust me either.”   
  
“You’ve very good at telling me how I should feel,” Percy says. “And what I should or should not do. I think you might have forgotten that I’m the authority on those things, Credence.”   
  
“Percy,” Credence sighs and even that hurts, just saying his name. “Everything’s different. I’m here. This is my home now. Your home is in New York. Just… just because we feel the same way about some things doesn’t mean we’re good for each other. Or that I’m willing to go back.”   
  
“I’m not asking you to go back to New York either, Credence,” Percy says. “You didn’t tell me until that night because we are good for each other and you didn’t want to lose that. Because it was real to you and had been for a long while, I imagine.”   
  
Credence looks up at the ceiling and bites his lip, hard, because he is very, very tired of crying. He looks at Percy. “It was,” he agrees. “It was just as real for me as it was for you. What I did still can’t be forgiven.”   
  
“You saved my life.”   
  
“Because I had the dumb luck to be around to do so!” Credence snaps. “Because a fucking gangster ordered me in that room with you and I got the idea. If he hadn’t—”   
  
“You saved my life,” Percy interrupts firmly. “What might have happened in another version of events doesn’t matter. I was angry, Credence. I was angry for a very long time. But I forgave you the moment I knew what you’d done. My head wasn’t on straight for a while because you threw me off balance. I _had_ to get my head on straight but if you think I haven’t been thinking about you every single day like I know you’ve been thinking about me, you’ve underestimated me yet again.”   
  
“You’re asking me to share my life with you again, in some way, and it could go all wrong in a day or a year or ten and it would ruin me, Percy. It would ruin me more than everything already has,” Credence says quietly, sniffing and blinking away the burn in his eyes. “Just because we think about each other every day and have both been shit at working ourselves out of it doesn’t mean the answer is _us_ again. How can it be? There’s an ocean between us and I’ve built something for myself here.”   
  
“I can see that you have,” Percy says and smiles faintly. “And I’m proud of you for doing it. Credence, I’m not asking you to forget everything here and come back to New York and pretend it didn’t happen. I’m only asking for some of your time. Preferably a few days of it.”   
  
Credence furrows his brow as he watches Percy. “How long are you here for?”   
  
“As long as you want me to be,” Percy says. “But I’ve paid for three nights in the inn.”   
  
Credence knows that if he asked Percy to stay three months, he would. He sighs and looks down at the table, running his hands through his hair. “Percy… I just…” he trails off and shakes his head. “Some days I hang on by a thread, you know? I can’t take having my heart get anymore broken than it already is. I know it’s my fault to begin with but I can’t do it again.”   
  
“You and I feel the same way, I told you,” Percy says. “But I think about what you said in your letter too. That you couldn’t come back to MACUSA because _you won’t do that to me._ Every day I walk through those halls and hope I see you walking through them too.”   
  
“You told me if I ever stepped foot into MACUSA again, I would regret it,” Credence says with hurt he’ll never be able to hide.   
  
“I was angry,” Percy says quietly. “And I needed that out of my system first. But I regretted saying it when I went home that night to our apartment and you weren’t there anymore.”   
  
Credence brushes his cheek off and looks away, because that hurts, and he doesn’t know what to say.   
  
He had hoped Percy moved on. That he forgot about Credence and moved forward with his life, that he didn’t think of him, and if he did, that he did so with resentment, with no forgiveness. The way he should have.   
  
But Credence can’t keep taking away Percy’s choices from him.   
  
He looks at him and he sees it clearly. The pain that Credence feels, the pain that causes him to wake with tears in his eyes and a name on his lips, the pain that keeps him holding tightly onto a scarf that’s not his own, reflected back at him.   
  
Percy has been suffering without Credence as much as Credence has been suffering without Percy.   
  
Because they’d loved each other, immensely, and the desire to stay together for life had been real, even though Credence knew a different end was coming for them. He had meant it, if things had been different, and he’s long since gotten over how stupid he was to not fix it so they might have had a chance at it.   
  
“Did you have to move out of the apartment?” Credence asks and doesn’t know why he does.   
  
Percy chuckles. “I did,” he says and smiles when Credence grimaces. “New place is on the east side of Central Park. The same view, mostly. Transfigured and extended the place until it looked like the old one. Took me half a day and about half a week to adjust to it.”   
  
“Are you still able to use the fireplace into work?” Credence asks with another grimace.   
  
“I am, actually,” Percy says. “Anyone not authorized tries to get through will find themselves trapped and waiting to be arrested. Through both the fireplace and my office now. No one’s coming through again.”   
  
Credence wrinkles his nose. “I suppose that’s good,” he says quietly and feels immensely guilty that anyone got in to begin with. That Percy had to lose his apartment, even if he’s made the new one look like the home he loved.   
  
He wonders if he’d have a harder time adjusting to it if he was there to walk inside. He shakes himself of that thought and sighs as he looks at Percy.   
  
“I should get back to work,” he says. “Don’t wait around. I’m not done until midnight.”   
  
Percy smiles. “I used to wait around until eleven-thirty, you know,” he says and taps the table. “I’ll let you get back to it. May I see you tomorrow?”   
  
Credence can hardly say no and he finds he doesn’t want to, even if he really should. “Yes,” he says with a gentle sigh. “There’s not a whole lot to do in the village. Unless you like skiing.”   
  
“I have never gone skiing before,” Percy says with a smirk. “And I’m not interested in it.”   
  
Credence smiles faintly and looks down at the table. “I have a cottage about a quarter of a mile northwest of here. It’s a little set off from everything else,” he says. “You can come by around noon. I sleep late.”   
  
Percy nods. “I’ll see you at noon then,” he says and picks up the whiskey. He tips it back as easily as he always has and reaches into his pocket before Credence waves him off.   
  
“You didn’t order it, don’t worry about it,” he says quietly and stands. Percy does as well and Credence looks at him, his heart thumping heavily. “See you tomorrow.”   
  
“Good night, Credence,” Percy says with a nod before he’s off, out of the pub as quickly as he had come, it feels like.   
  
Credence blinks for a while and is inclined to think none of it had been real, just a memory come back to haunt him, until he takes the tray and glass back behind the bar and Jonas looks at him, his eyebrows raised.   
  
“The city you left your mark on?”   
  
Credence nods. “Yes,” he says. “Sorry, I didn’t—”   
  
_“He_ didn’t,” Jonas says with a smile. “But he is American, so I will forgive him. Unless you wish for me to curse him now?”   
  
“No, thank you,” Credence says with a chuckle. “I’m capable of doing it myself. But I don’t think it’s going to be necessary.”   
  
“Ah,” Jonas says. “So the city still carries your heart.”   
  
“I’m not going anywhere,” Credence says firmly. “This is home now.”   
  
“And yet who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes,” Jonas says and winks before moving down along the bar to speak to a patron.   
  
Credence blinks after him and shakes his head. The Swiss do love their sayings, he’s come to find out, wizardkind and no-maj alike.   
  
He works through the rest of the night and tries not to think about Percy. It’s still hard to believe he’s really here and Credence finds that it makes it easier to finish his shift. He leaves a little after midnight and goes home to his cottage.   
  
Bear is there to zoom around his head and greet him and Credence grabs a pastry he’d bought at the market this morning to snack on as he walks into his bedroom. He flicks his wand to clean Bear’s cage while he’s out of it and sighs when the owl sits on his shoulder.   
  
“We’re going to have company tomorrow,” he says quietly. Bear hoots happily. “I don’t know if it’s going to be a good thing.” He sighs and pulls Queenie’s letter and Percy’s scarf down so he can open the window.   
  
Bear flies out of it, off to hunt, and Credence closes it. He lies down in bed and looks at the letter for a while before picking up Percy’s scarf, running his fingers along the thick wool, which has never worn thin. Anita’s work, after all, something meant to last forever.   
  
Even if Percy updates his wardrobe every few months.   
  
Credence smiles to himself and looks up at the ceiling.   
  
He doesn’t know what to expect from tomorrow. If it’ll be one of the worst days he’s ever had or one of the best, or perhaps something else entirely. It scares him, but what can he do about it? Percy is already here, his mere presence painful and yet exhilarating all the same. His heart has come to join him in the mountains, he thinks, fifteen months later.   
  
It’s not until later, when he’s trying to fall asleep and failing miserably at it, torn between tears and frustration and excitement, that he realizes what Jonas had been telling him.   
  
——   
  
Credence wakes around ten and stays in bed for a while, looking out of his window and at the dark grey skies above. Spring is coming but he’s been told it mostly brings more snow storms, sometimes until mid to late May. He doesn’t mind the snow, but it does make for a long winter.   
  
He looks at Bear, asleep in his cage, and doesn’t know what he should feel.   
  
Scared still but his blood is thrumming beneath his skin in a way it hasn’t in a long time and Credence isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or not. He can’t get ahead of himself, can’t convince himself things are normal, that none of it happened, or he’ll only get hurt.   
  
But Percy isn’t here just to say hello and he’d made that clear last night. Credence doesn’t entirely know what he wants but Percy will be here soon enough to ask.   
  
Credence takes a hot shower and eats breakfast with quite a lot of coffee to go with it and tries not to stare at the clock. He fails, but that’s nothing new.   
  
Percy arrives precisely at noon, punctuality bred into him, Credence knows, and Credence walks to the door after hearing the knock. His heart is in his throat and he feels like he’s walking through a dream, everything a bit strange, but when he opens the door the cold wakes him up.   
  
Percy looks at Credence and though he’s wearing clothes fit enough for mountains, his boots have no snow on them and it nearly makes Credence laugh, to know he’s Apparated here. He’s so used to everyone walking everywhere, unless there’s a blizzard to stop them.   
  
But Percy smiles then, a small thing, and Credence steps aside to let him in.   
  
“Good afternoon,” Percy says as he moves inside and looks around the small cottage.   
  
“Good afternoon,” Credence says with some cheek he can’t help. “Do you want some coffee?”   
  
“Please,” Percy says and looks around when Bear flies out of the bedroom, hooting happily. “Who is this?”   
  
“Bear,” Credence says and walks into the kitchen to get another pot of coffee brewing. “Bear, this is Percy.”   
  
Bear hoots, a long and interested sort of thing, because he’s heard enough about Percy. Credence blushes when he hears Percy chuckle and breathes in the scent of coffee, trying not to focus on the way his chest feels light. On the way his shoulders feel less heavy, like some weight has been lifted from them.   
  
“You can sit at the table or on the sofa, if you want,” Credence says as he turns around and looks at Percy, Bear on his shoulder and enjoying some scratches.   
  
“Thank you,” Percy says and takes the sofa. “You are much better behaved than other owls,” he tells Bear, who preens at the compliment. “He’s a hawk-owl, isn’t he?”   
  
“Yeah,” Credence says. “Came out of the shell a pygmy one, I think.”   
  
Bear hoots proudly, as if to say _that’s right,_ and Credence smiles when Percy does, his tinged with amusement.   
  
Credence pours two mugs of coffee and sits on the sofa next to Percy, handing his over. The sofa is tiny enough that they’re close to each other and Credence pulls his knees to his chest, for some semblance of protection, of distance. His hands are trembling, just a bit, and he sets the mug aside and grabs the blanket off of the top of the sofa to have something to hold onto.   
  
“How did you find me?” Credence asks curiously, without anger, because there’s nothing he can do about it now.   
  
“Queenie asked the people who work the post at the docks to let her know who brought in the letter. The Diricrawl came from Monaco and it was fairly easy to find the two owls who handled it between here and the coast,” Percy says and shrugs, unapologetically, when Credence purses his lips. “I’ve had to do it before.”   
  
“I’m sure,” Credence mutters. “I didn’t think about Diricrawls. I didn’t even know they could jump that far.”   
  
“They certainly can,” Percy says. “We’re still studying them to this day to find out how they can do it.”   
  
Credence shakes his head and sighs. “I’m never going to forgive Queenie,” he says, but he’s smiling, so he can’t really mean it, he supposes. “I didn’t mean to end up here. I got here last July and it seemed right. You should see this place when it’s not covered in snow.”   
  
Percy smiles. “I’m sure it’s beautiful. I can see why you chose it. Where were you before?”   
  
Credence shrugs. “Germany, Belgium, France, Britain,” he says and smiles when Percy raises his eyebrows. “I thought London would be a good fit. Big city and all, but it wasn’t. I was in the English countryside for a while but that didn’t feel right either. I picked Wengen off the map at random and I haven’t left since.”   
  
“You enjoyed the mountains before,” Percy says. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed Switzerland.”   
  
There’s something unsaid in that and Credence thinks about the broken picture frame that would have taken them here and wishes it didn’t hurt. Percy probably hadn’t gone through a good time unregistering it with MACUSA.   
  
“Don’t tell me Wengen is where you meant for us to go,” Credence says mildly as he stares down at the blanket, rolling the tightly knit wool in his fingers.   
  
“Interlaken,” Percy says.   
  
Credence looks at him, gaping a little, until Percy laughs and he does too. “Merlin, that’s six miles away,” he says and smiles, shaking his head. “I’ve gone there a few times with Jonas. The man I work for in the pub,” he adds when Percy raises his eyebrows.   
  
“Ah, the one who kept eyeballing me,” Percy says with a smile. “He seemed ready to defend your honor.”   
  
Credence shrugs. “I told him it was my fault that led me to leave home but I’ve never said anything beyond it,” he says. “He’s just fond of me.”   
  
“Hard not to be,” Percy says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world for him to say. “I’m happy for you, Credence, that you’ve been able to find a place like this. With people who are fond of you.”   
  
Credence bites his lip and hums. “It’s hard to think I deserve it sometimes but I would’ve lost my mind if I cut myself off from people,” he says and looks down at his hands. “A no-maj family down in Bern have nearly made me one of their own. It’s nice to have people who care about my well being again. I thought I had that before but I realized I really didn’t when I met you. When I became friends with Queenie and Tina and the Fontaines.”   
  
“I think you had more of that before you met me too,” Percy says and smiles when Credence looks at him, not without a little bitterness. “You were happy when we met. Happy in the way people are when they have comfort and security in their lives.”   
  
“I’m pretty sure I only convinced myself I had those things.”   
  
“Gnarlak couldn’t hide his fondness for you even if he tried,” Percy says dryly.   
  
“You arrested him?” Credence asks with some shock.   
  
Percy laughs. “No,” he says. “His whereabouts are unknown to this day. He wrote me a letter.”   
  
“He… wrote you a letter,” Credence repeats slowly. _“Gnarlak?”_   
  
“Amazing how well his voice translates over to his written words,” Percy says and shakes his head. “He didn’t say much but his fondness for you was clear.”   
  
Credence huffs. “He always said I was his favorite,” he says. “One time someone I was… well,” he waves his hand dismissively when Percy raises his eyebrows, “he disrespected me in Gnarlak’s eyes and he didn’t like that. He asked me a few times if you were treating me well. I don’t think he looked at our own work as being disrespectful.”   
  
“The work he does he thinks he has a right to. He didn’t think anyone had a right to you,” Percy says with a bit of a smirk. “Not an uncommon way for gangsters to look at things.”   
  
“I suppose that’s true,” Credence says with a laugh. “I’m glad to be rid of gangsters in my life all the same.”   
  
Percy smiles, in amusement. “I thought you might be,” he says as he gazes at Credence. “New York certainly isn’t the same without you either way.”   
  
“I’ll never not miss New York,” Credence says quietly. “And the people in it.” He looks at Percy and bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t think it’d be a good idea for either of us if I ever went back.”   
  
“I can why you’d think that. I don’t think you’re right,” Percy says with a faint smile. “I’m never going to ask you to leave here, Credence, if staying here is what you want. But you are missed and you’ll never not be missed.”   
  
Credence swallows roughly and purses his lips. “I don’t know how you can look at me and still trust me. Still want me.”   
  
“There are many reasons for that. I saw what not telling me was doing to you for months. I knew you loved me from the first time you said it. Before, even, and I knew you meant it every time after. You saved my life, even if you waited until the last damn second you could,” Percy says with a chuckle, but it’s not bitter or angry. “But you’ve always run yourself in circles when you’re scared of something. I trust you, Credence, because of these things, and because I know you’re not capable of doing it again. And I still want you because I love you. That hasn’t changed. How could it? I told you I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you and you might have been hiding your work from me, but you didn’t hide the real you from me. Before you tell me I don’t know that, I’ll remind you it’s my job to know that.”   
  
Credence smiles, unable to help it, and gently wipes at his eyes, because he can never seem to escape tears. He’d like to. He’d like to get some peace in his life and maybe never cry again. Not unless they were happy tears and he’s not sure he’ll ever be so lucky in life.   
  
“I wanted to but I suppose about three weeks in that was a lost cause,” he says and smiles when Percy laughs. “I was never the remarkable one.”   
  
“What were you then?”   
  
“A fucking lucky bastard,” Credence says and smiles more widely when he sees the affection in Percy’s eyes. “I miss you. I miss you every day, Percy. But I don’t know how I could ever not feel enormously guilty when I look at you.”   
  
Percy shrugs. “I think I could help you with that. Before I leave even,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel that way around me. I think over two years of guilt is probably enough penance.”   
  
“I think a lifetime of guilt would be enough,” Credence mutters. “You’re too forgiving. All of you are.”   
  
“You let us worry about what we’re too much of,” Percy says. “And maybe work on starting to forgive yourself.”   
  
“How can I?” Credence asks and his voice breaks, because it’s so easy to remember what Percy looked like in the tunnel, black blood on his face shining in the moonlight. “When I think about… about that night…”   
  
“I know, Credence,” Percy says and his hand, always so warm, lays over Credence’s, on top of his knee. “It’s alright.”   
  
“No, it’s not,” Credence insists as he looks at Percy. “It’s never going to be alright.”   
  
“That it happened? No, maybe not. But you won’t feel the way you do now once you start finding that healing we’ve both been sorely lacking.”   
  
“If you haven’t healed, then why do you think—”   
  
“I haven’t healed from the loss of _you,_ Credence,” Percy says firmly. “I told you I forgave you the moment I realized what you’d done. I needed time to process my anger from it but my pain comes from your loss, not anything else.”   
  
Credence inhales sharply, trying to stave off tears, and Bear, who has mostly been sleeping on the top of the sofa between them, flutters closer and hoots in concern.   
  
He doesn’t know why, but it’s what sets him off, and Credence is weeping before he can stop himself. It’s too much. Percy here, in Switzerland, no longer just a memory, no longer just a dream, and telling Credence he’s still loved, that he’s forgiven.   
  
Something he might have hoped for but thought to be impossible and that he wouldn’t deserve it anyway.   
  
Percy’s hand is tight around his own and when he moves a little closer, Credence decides perhaps he can be selfish once more, and slumps into his arms. He grips Percy’s coat and rests his head on his shoulder and cries until he can’t anymore. Percy rubs his back and his cheek is pressed to Credence’s hair and Credence doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve this wonderful man, but he hardly wants to move away.   
  
He should, but he won’t.   
  
“You’re too good to me,” Credence says softly after a while and brushes his cheek off.   
  
“I’m the right amount of good to you,” Percy says.   
  
“You were going to ask me to marry you that night, weren’t you?”   
  
“No, actually,” Percy says with a chuckle. “I’d been carrying that around for a month already. I was going to ask you to marry me up here.”   
  
He kisses Credence’s forehead then and the familiarity of it makes Credence’s heart leap, but he firmly stops himself from dissolving into tears again. He only sniffs and looks up at Percy, so close to him, and thinks he should have known it was going to go this way.   
  
Percy moves his hand to Credence’s cheek and his eyes carry a softness in them that Credence has dearly missed. He’s the only one that’s ever looked at Credence like that.   
  
It’s as easy and natural as breathing when they lean toward each other and kiss. They move gently together and there’s no urgency to it, only a slow and tender reawakening.   
  
Percy presses two more sweet kisses to Credence’s lips before he pulls back, just a bit, and Credence looks at him and realizes he is afraid of more. Afraid that _Credence_ is afraid of more and he’s right, he’s always been right, but Credence is sick of being afraid.   
  
He kisses Percy again with more firmness and need and Percy opens to him, because he has always given Credence whatever he needs.   
  
Their arms wrap tightly around one another and they get lost there for a while, remembering each other well, until Credence eases back on the sofa and brings Percy down with him.   
  
It takes some adjusting to even be sure they’ll stay on it and Percy sighs after a while, against Credence’s neck. “This is a very small sofa.”   
  
Credence laughs and grins when Percy looks down at him. “It’s only ever been me on it,” he says and rubs his hands up and down along Percy’s back. “Not all of us need a sofa to fit four people.”   
  
“Just two, very comfortably,” Percy says with a chuckle. He looks up when a gust of wind passes outside, at the darkening windows. “How have you survived up here?”   
  
“Not only have I mastered how to keep myself warm,” Credence says. “But even a little place like this is designed to keep the warmth in. It’s not so bad. No one here complains about the cold unless they’ve run into tourists. Especially no-maj ones, up at the resort.”   
  
“I almost booked a stay there until I realized it was crawling with no-majs,” Percy says with a smirk. “I am fairly sure the witch at the inn thinks I’m up to no good anyway, but my German is rusty.”   
  
Credence laughs. “She thinks everyone is up to no good,” he says. “People like me here just fine but they still call me _the American_ whenever they get the chance to.”   
  
“I have a feeling they don’t get many Americans who settle in here,” Percy says with a smile.   
  
“I am the only one,” Credence says and leans up to kiss Percy briefly. “I have to work at four but tomorrow is a night off.”   
  
Percy nods. “If it’s not white-out conditions tomorrow evening still, I’d like to take you to dinner. In Bern, preferably, where not every single person is going to stare at me with suspicion,” he says dryly. “If you’d like.”   
  
Credence grins. “Sure,” he says. “How’s it feel? To have everyone think you’re up to no good?”   
  
“Not as forgein as you might think,” Percy says. “Every time Sera looks in my direction she’s thinking it. But it’s been a while otherwise, I’ll admit.”   
  
“Probably a good thing,” Credence says and smiles. “Unless you are up to no good?”   
  
Percy gazes at Credence and his eyes are darker then. “If you wanted me to be,” he says. “But there’s time for being up to no good later too.”   
  
Credence nods. “I know,” he says. “I don’t think I want to wait until later though.”   
  
“I don’t want you to regret it, Credence.”   
  
“Like I ever could,” Credence says with a smile. “If you leave in a few days, I’ll regret it if I don’t feel you. If you want it too anyway.”   
  
“Looking at you like this again, how can I not?” Percy says with a smile. “You’re beautiful, Credence. I’m always going to want you.”   
  
“Then take me,” Credence says softly, moving his hands up and through Percy’s hair.   
  
Percy closes his eyes briefly before he leans in and kisses Credence. He moves his lips down his jaw and to his neck, brushing over the sensitive skin there before he gently bites Credence’s earlobe, sending him into a shiver.   
  
“I hope you don’t mean on this sofa,” Percy says when he pulls away.   
  
Credence grins. “I guess my bed is a little bigger than this,” he says. “We might just stay on it.”   
  
Percy chuckles and moves his hand up, brushing Credence’s hair back from his forehead. “Alright then,” he says and gets off the sofa, offering his hands.   
  
Credence takes them and stands, looking at Bear who has settled on his perch by the fire and is asleep, or at least pretending to be. Credence leads Percy into his bedroom and closes the door behind him.   
  
It’s not a large room, but Credence has made it his and he realizes no one else has been in here but him and Bear. He watches Percy take it in and he’s smiling, so it can’t be too bad.   
  
They move closer to each other and in between slow and gentle kisses, they undress each other, until things are not so slow and gentle anymore. Credence is only briefly surprised by the intensity of it, by the way everything begins to move quickly, when they’ve fallen into bed.   
  
It’s been an incredibly long fifteen months, after all, without each other, and Percy has missed Credence as much as he’s missed Percy.   
  
It’s cold in the room and when Credence shivers, Percy pulls the blankets up further and he’s pressed flush to Credence, his skin hot, but Credence thinks it’s not entirely the cold that’s making him tremble.   
  
Percy sees the letter from Queenie then, on the windowsill, his scarf there too. He pauses and reaches up, touching the tightly woven fabric of it, and when he looks at Credence, his eyes are bright and the beginnings of embarrassment are dashed away as quickly as they’d come for Credence.   
  
He wraps his arms around Percy and pulls him closer so he can kiss him again, digging his fingertips into his back, and the groan Percy gives him for it is so painfully familiar, comforting, that Credence clings a bit harder.   
  
When Percy rolls his hips against Credence, Credence wraps his legs around him and moans. The slide of his cock against Credence’s is divine and he breaks away to gasp, tipping his head back against his pillow.   
  
“I need you in me,” Credence whispers with urgency. “Please, Percy.”   
  
“I will be, love, soon,” Percy says and his voice is a little rough around the edges. “Do you have lube?” Once Credence has directed him to his nightstand and Percy has dug it out, he looks down at Credence. “Has it been a while?”   
  
Credence raises his eyebrows. “Yes, Percy, it’s been a while,” he says. “It’s been since you.”   
  
Percy laughs. “Alright, sweetheart. I’m thinking of your comfort, you know,” he says and shifts around until he can open the lube and get a generous amount on his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”   
  
“I know,” Credence sighs. “Sorry. I just really need you in me.” He smiles when Percy hums in amusement and kisses Credence’s shoulder, his hand moving down between them until his fingers are pressed against his hole. “Fuck. I’ve missed you, Percy.”   
  
“I’ve missed you too,” Percy says as he spreads the lube. He slides his finger in and kisses Credence when he moans, keeps kissing him as he rubs against him in just the right way.   
  
“Another,” Credence says in between kisses and groans when Percy slides a second finger into him. His tongue moves over Credence’s and he tastes like coffee and something more, something Credence has been missing for too long.   
  
Percy rubs against him until Credence is shaking, until he can’t kiss him anymore, because he can only keep gasping, clutching at Percy’s shoulders.   
  
Credence’s cock is leaking on his stomach and he whines when Percy thrusts his fingers in and out, looking for resistance, but he only finds it when he’s pressing a third finger in.   
  
It burns and Credence winces slightly, but the burn eases so quickly he knows it’s Percy’s doing. He does it once or twice more as well, until Credence is more than ready.   
  
“Fuck me already,” Credence gasps and digs his nails into Percy’s skin when he curls his fingers, buried deep. “And don’t you dare take it slow.”   
  
Percy smiles, something sharp to it, that says he doesn’t want to take it slower either. He pulls his fingers from Credence and grabs the lube again, always generous with it, and Credence whimpers at the slick sound of him spreading it on his cock.   
  
He guides himself to Credence’s hole, holding himself up on the bed, and there is no pain when he pushes in. They both gasp and Credence watches the way Percy’s face goes lax with pleasure as he slides in, until he’s pressed flush against him.   
  
“Fuck,” Percy whispers and leans down, pressing his forehead to Credence’s. “You feel fucking incredible, Credence.”   
  
Credence breathes with Percy, for just a moment, until it’s not so overwhelming to be filled with him again. “Missed you,” Credence says. “Missed your cock too.” He smiles when Percy chuckles, low and husky. “Make me feel it.”   
  
Percy kisses Credence, his lips and his cheek and his jaw as he moves, a few slow thrusts in and out, making sure the position is comfortable, but also teasing Credence.   
  
“Percy, if you don’t fucking move—”   
  
The snap of Percy’s hips knocks a grunt out of Credence but he doesn’t have time to do anything but hold on because Percy begins to fuck him in the way they both need it.   
  
Credence’s moans and cries are loud, but the snowstorm outside is louder. Percy groans against his neck, against his jaw and lips, but he’s moving too hard and fast to properly kiss Credence.   
  
It’s hot now, under the blankets, and they’re both slick with sweat soon, but it’s a nice slide of skin against skin. The mattress creaks below them and the bedframe occasionally thumps against the wall and Credence hopes it never ends.   
  
But the harshness of Percy’s thrusts and the way he’s looking at Credence are pushing him very swiftly toward an orgasm. Percy knows it, pushing himself up onto his hands, his hair falling over his forehead, an incredibly good look that Credence has forgotten about until this moment.   
  
“Jerk off,” Percy says, thick and rough from the snap of his hips. “I want to feel you coming before I fill you, Credence.”   
  
“Fuck yes,” Credence hisses and reaches down, wrapping his fist around his aching cock. “I want your come in me, Percy. It’s been too long. _Fuck!”_ he cries when Percy angles his hips just slightly and thrusts in deep.   
  
Credence strokes himself, quick and rough, clutching at Percy’s arm with his other hand to try to keep from sliding on the bed. It only takes looking at Percy and hearing _Credence_ fall from his lips and he shouts, throwing his head back as he comes, slick over his stomach and knuckles.   
  
Percy grunts when Credence spasms around him but he fucks Credence through it, until Credence’s moans are high and desperate. Percy buries himself deep and groans, long and low when he comes, and Credence wraps his arms around his back and watches him.   
  
There’s something about watching a man who is so put together and immaculate in everything he does come apart the way Percy does when he’s climaxing, and Credence hopes he gets to see it for the rest of his life.   
  
Percy leans slowly down and presses against Credence again, breathing hotly against his neck, and Credence runs his hands along his back as he breathes with him.   
  
“Merlin,” Credence whispers and stares up at the ceiling. “Percy…”   
  
“I know, love,” Percy says softly, kissing Credence’s shoulder and looking at him. “Incredible as you’ve always been.”   
  
Credence’s cheeks are warm and he smiles lazily. “You are too,” he says and sighs. “I don’t want to go to work.”   
  
Percy chuckles. “I can swing by and kiss you good night at midnight.”   
  
“Like I wouldn’t want you to come home with me after,” Credence says. “And sleep next to me.”   
  
Percy smiles and kisses Credence’s cheek. “Whatever you want,” he says and moves up again. He pushes the blankets back a bit and the cool air feels good against their hot skin.   
  
He pulls gently out of Credence and after watching his come slide back out of him, he waves his hand until they’re both clean. “It’s a very nice sight,” Percy says when he sees Credence grinning at him.   
  
“It is,” Credence agrees. “I might have to watch it myself later.”   
  
“I would love to feel you inside of me later,” Percy says with a smirk as he rolls onto his back next to Credence.   
  
They’re pressed close together, Credence’s bed certainly not as large as Percy’s is, but it’s something Credence thinks he needs. Closeness and the comfort of knowing Percy is really here.   
  
Credence moves onto his side and slings his arm around Percy’s ribs. “I don’t know what I want,” he says honestly.   
  
“That’s alright,” Percy says as he looks at Credence with a smile that’s softer now. “There’s no rush, Credence. Don’t be afraid to choose what you want either, no matter what it is.”   
  
Credence watches Percy and he knows he means it, even if it’s to his own detriment. That if Credence chooses to stay here, in Switzerland, he will accept it. He would accept coming to visit regularly with a little more enthusiasm, maybe, but Credence doesn’t know if he wants that.   
  
The idea of never seeing Percy again does threaten to take his breath away in the worst of ways and Credence doesn’t think any time would ever heal that wound.   
  
“Okay,” he says. “Thank you, Percy.”   
  
He really doesn’t deserve this man, he thinks, as he watches Percy and feels the rise and fall of his chest under his hand. He doesn’t know why Percy is choosing him again, but maybe if he stops questioning it, things might start falling into place.   
  
They stay in bed and talk for a while. It’s always going to be painful, talking about their time apart, but Credence enjoys listening to Percy tell him about their friends. About Queenie’s new man, Tina’s promotion, Fontaine and Eldora’s disastrous trip to Mexico due to a mixup at MACUSA, and Sera’s engagement. Percy says no one knows about it yet and tells Credence very seriously to not sell the information to _Witches Weekly_ and laughs when Credence pinches him.   
  
But he has to shower soon enough, again, to get ready for work and he does so with Percy, though his shower barely fits them both and they learn they’re more likely to slip and die than enjoy it halfway through.   
  
Once they’re both dressed, Percy kisses Credence and says he’ll see him later, before he’s off to the inn. Credence Apparates to the pub and starts his shift with a smile.   
  
He shrugs when Jonas quirks an eyebrow at him and hides a smile when he says _well, at least you’ve finally got some color to you._   
  
——   
  
Percy doesn’t spend another night at the inn and he doesn’t leave in three days. When Credence asks him about work, he says that he told Sera and Fontaine to expect him home in a few days or a few months so they’re prepared enough for him to be gone for a while.   
  
Credence isn’t quite sure how to feel when he says it. If he would deal better with a shorter visit so it’s not as overwhelming, or if he’s glad Percy is here to stay for a while.   
  
But he only has to look at Percy and see him smile, feel his hand in his, and he knows he’s an idiot for thinking he’s anything but thrilled to have him close.   
  
To have him back in his life.   
  
Percy comes into the pub sometimes, after Credence has told him he could, and sits at the bar and watches Credence work while talking with the locals. And Jonas, who takes a night or two to warm up to him, but he eventually does. Probably because Credence can’t stop smiling whenever he looks at Percy.   
  
He takes the villagers' suspicions well but once word has spread that he belongs to Credence, in their words, they welcome him in and begin to shout _the Americans!_ whenever they see them. Percy takes the teasing with good grace when it comes and Credence thinks he looks at home here too, without his fancy suits and pristinely shined shoes.   
  
Credence takes him to Bern to meet Emilie and her family and he gets along with everyone but her brothers, who seem to think he might try to ruin Emilie’s brand new engagement, which is endlessly amusing to the four of them, if not a bit exhausting to Emilie’s parents.   
  
But, after a few weeks in Wengen and visiting Bern, Credence thinks he could do this for the rest of his life. That he could ask Percy to move into his cottage with him and lead a simple life, a happy one, something not as grand as New York and MACUSA.   
  
And yet Credence won’t. He won’t ask Percy for that because that’s Percy’s life, that’s what he loves, that’s what he’s worked so damn hard for in his life. It’s what he’s immensely good at and he loves New York, he loves his apartment, he loves his job. He loves Credence too, yes, and he would give it all up, but Credence thinks he would suffer it all the same, even if he never said a word to Credence about it.   
  
Credence won’t do that to him.   
  
And Credence knows well he thinks of the skyscrapers and the noise and the drab greyness of it all with fondness. He was born and raised in New York City and though perhaps it was not an ideal beginning to his life, he expects to live for a long time yet.   
  
The idea of sitting in Percy’s apartment, their apartment, staring out of the windows and reading books and drinking tea and making love there, the way it used to be, makes something bloom within him that has been gone for a long time.   
  
Something he forgot he felt to begin with.   
  
The warmth and life of home.   
  
So when April is nearly half done and the snows are beginning to come less frequently, Credence takes Percy’s hand in his and sits with him on the sofa.   
  
Bear is out hunting and it’s Credence’s night off, which he thinks is probably going to be a good thing.   
  
“I know what I want,” he tells Percy.   
  
Percy raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Oh?” he asks. “Cholermüs for dinner?”   
  
Credence laughs. “Well. Yeah, now that you say it,” he says and smiles when Percy chuckles. “You know what I mean.”   
  
“I do,” Percy says as he squeezes Credence’s hand that’s resting on his thigh. “I suppose I didn’t expect a decision so quickly.”   
  
“It’s been almost a month!”   
  
“I gave you three.”   
  
Credence shrugs. “I probably could’ve figured it out sooner if you hadn’t been distracting me so much,” he says with some cheek, though he’s nervous all the same. “I love it here,” he says as he looks at Percy. “It feels like home. I want you to see it when it’s not covered in snow. The way I saw it first and what made me fall in love with it.”   
  
Percy gazes at Credence with a smile and won’t say anything until he knows Credence has told him what he wants.   
  
“But I also know that the idea of three months away from MACUSA has to be driving you a little mad,” Credence says with a fond smile. “I don’t want to keep you out of New York. But I don’t want to watch you leave here. And… as much as this feels like home to me, it feels like my second home. New York will always be my first. I think I’m ready to see it again.” He swallows and bites his lip.   
  
“But I don’t want to lose Wengen either. So… if you have the time for it, I was hoping to come back a few times a year. I can have someone keep up with the cottage and we can come during the summer and during the winter. Or any time of the year. Stay for a few weeks each time, maybe.”   
  
Credence feels Percy’s hand under his chin and realizes he had looked at his lap, afraid to see some sort of rejection. But he looks at Percy and only sees the same soft affection that’s always been there and the smile that disarmed him from the moment he first saw it.   
  
“I was hoping you’d choose that,” Percy says quietly. When Credence frowns, he smiles, wider. “You’re keeping me in mind with what you want and I’m keeping you in mind with what I want just as much. I don’t want you to lose what you have here, Credence, what makes you happy. I’m honored to share it with you. I happen to love this place too. I did choose Interlaken for a reason, beyond the recommendation.”   
  
Credence smiles and lifts Percy’s hand, kissing his knuckles. “Thank you,” he says softly. “It’d be good for us both anyway, to get away for a while. No better place than this.”   
  
“I am very much in agreement with that,” Percy says with a gentle sigh. “Sounds perfect, love. If you’re sure this is exactly what you want.”   
  
“I’m absolutely sure,” Credence says with a laugh. “I want to go home. I want to see the city and the apartment and our friends. I want to find a good job again and do some genuine work. I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Just like before.”   
  
Percy smiles as he listens to Credence before he leans in and kisses him. “Alright then. We’ll make it happen,” he says when he pulls back. “Getting home and getting on with spending the rest of our lives together.”   
  
Credence grins and moves over until he can swing his leg over Percy’s lap, straddling him. He wraps his arms around Percy’s neck as his own arms move around Credence’s hips.   
  
“I love you,” Credence says. “It’ll be good. You told me that before too.”   
  
“Promised you it,” Percy says and smiles. “I love you too, Credence. Let’s go home.”   
  
There isn’t much more to be said that night, but there doesn’t need to be.   
  
——   
  
It takes a couple weeks to arrange everything. Credence can’t simply pick up a suitcase and leave this time.   
  
He has people to say goodbye to, numerous friends and some found family, and he takes his time in doing so. They are sad to see him go, but his promise to return in July is one they make him swear to over and over again.   
  
Jonas hugs him and tells him to not be so afraid to listen to his heart and Credence thinks he doesn’t really have any idea how hard that’s always been for Credence.   
  
Or maybe he does.   
  
He packs up the cottage and tells Bear the city is a very different place, but Bear simply zooms around hooting excitedly for a few days. Jonas will be by to check on the place, make sure it’s prepared for another winter at the end of the year, and after that it’s a trip to the Ministry to arrange for a portkey home.   
  
Director Percival Graves is a name that carries weight even in Switzerland - not to mention that he came here legally not so long ago and if Credence leaving the country is a problem, there’s no mention of it - and soon they have a portkey waiting for them in the evening.   
  
They have dinner once more with Emilie and her family and she gives Credence and Percy a stack of blankets to take home with them, while saying she has no idea how cold New York gets, but that blankets are always a good thing to have on hand.   
  
Credence thoroughly agrees with that.   
  
Once goodbyes are said and they go to an inn on a wizarding street in the city, they enter their room where their luggage is, along with Bear’s cage. Credence is more than used to portkeys now but when he takes a hold of it, he’s a bit frightened for his owl, but he needn’t have worried.   
  
They arrive in a small wooded area north of the city and everyone is one piece, though Bear is hooting with such excitement that it echoes across the trees.   
  
These woods are different from the others he’s been living by for over a year but they’re achingly familiar in their trees and the shrubs, blooming in the spring air, and Credence smiles.   
  
There’s nothing like coming home after a long time away.   
  
They get to the city and the apartment building is different, but Credence forces himself not to feel guilty about that. He merely follows Percy into the lift and up to his floor.   
  
But the apartment _is_ home. It may look out over the eastern side of Central Park, but Percy has truly made it what it once was, from the dark hardwood floors to the wooden beams on the ceiling, to the breakfast bar and massive windows that look out over Manhattan. The fireplace is the same and the hallways and bedrooms, as if the apartment had simply been plucked up and set somewhere new.   
  
Credence feels misty-eyed as he wanders around but he keeps a hold of himself. Percy watches him explore and when he comes back to him and slumps into his arms, feeling peace in his heart and a weight gone from his shoulders, he whispers _I love you._   
  
They spend a few days there, not telling anyone they’re home quite yet, because they have to settle into _home_ and what it means to them, truly and completely, and they take their time.   
  
It’s strange waking up in Percy’s bed but it’s a good sort of strange and Percy reminds him that this is theirs, not just his, and Credence thinks that will take him a little more time, but he knows he’ll get there.   
  
The thin box of cufflinks is on Percy’s nightstand and when he catches Credence looking at it, he tells him they have indeed saved not only his life, but others’ too, numerous times.   
  
The first day that Percy goes back to MACUSA isn’t for work, but to bring Credence in with him, and Credence takes in his familiar office, not much about it changed, except the framed photo on his desk. One of Eldora’s, Credence sees, and he had wondered what happened to them.   
  
When he was feeling particularly self-loathing, he would tell himself Percy threw them away, along with the ring he intended to give Credence, but he sees the picture and knows that Percy has never thrown anything away. Credence kisses him then before they walk out onto the floor and he braces himself, but most of the Aurors working there merely look mildly surprised and a little relieved too.   
  
“I am afraid I forgot what a good mood was for a while,” Percy says quietly, so only Credence can hear, and he decides not to feel guilty about that, or he’ll never dig himself out of it.   
  
Mister Fontaine approaches Credence and squints down at him for a while. “You staying this time?” he asks, in his usual blunt way.   
  
“Yes,” Credence says and raises his eyebrows. “For good.”   
  
“Causing trouble?”   
  
“Just the regular amount,” Credence says with a smile and laughs when Fontaine gives him half a hug and slaps Percy on his back hard enough to jolt him forward.   
  
Tina’s there too, waiting impatiently for her Captain to be done with Credence and she doesn’t squeal, though she looks like she wants to.   
  
“Oh, Credence, it’s so good to have you home,” she says as she squeezes him.   
  
“It’s good to be home,” Credence says as he hugs her, his eyes shut tight.   
  
They go to visit Queenie after, down in the Wand Permit Office, and she does squeal when she sees Credence and he laughs and hugs her too and thinks about the warmth from people that love him.   
  
It’s different, each type of warmth, the romantic and the platonic, the familial and something in between. Percy’s warmth will burn the hottest and keep Credence secure, comfortable, loved, all of the things he once chased after, that he didn’t really find until he met him.   
  
Queenie and Tina’s warmth is softer, comforting the way visiting a childhood home should be, he thinks, with familiarity and love of a different kind.   
  
When Credence had last embraced the people that he loves most, he had been taking that for granted. That they offered him this, that there is always protection in a warm embrace, and a helping hand will be extended for whenever he needs to reach for it. Credence knows that now.   
  
Percy sits in an empty chair and Credence sits on his lap while Tina and Queenie lounge on the desks and they talk and laugh for a while before Credence frowns.   
  
“Is Mister Abernathy at lunch?” he asks Queenie.   
  
“Abernathy Schmabernathy,” Queenie says with a roll of her eyes. “That moron got himself bought and arrested.” She grins, dimpled and proud. “I run this place now, so you come visit me any time, honey, and we’ll have tea and chat.”   
  
Credence laughs. “Congratulations,” he says and looks at Percy, who shrugs.   
  
“I never liked him. They had him watch the door that night,” Percy says flatly. “From my understanding Fontaine laughed when he saw him.”   
  
Queenie snickers. “No one in here was so bad at their job when he was gone, that’s for sure,” she says and smiles. “So, honey? You gonna tell us all about Switzerland?”   
  
Credence smiles and looks down at his hand, joined with Percy’s. He looks at Percy then and thinks the smile that he gives Credence, the one tinged with affection and amusement and love, is going to be the one that gives him the strength and courage to work through what’s happened. That will help him find forgiveness for himself, to let go of the guilt as much as he dares, and to find contentment.   
  
They’ve already started, but for today, he’s able to look at the Goldstein sisters and tell them how he found his way to Switzerland, a place Percy and Credence were destined to share all along, and how Percy brought him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm nervous about this one for a lot of reasons but I hope you enjoyed it. It's almost impossible for me to write unhappy endings so! Here we are. I'd love to hear from you. Please ignore any mistakes, I'll find them eventually!
> 
> Thank you to [Erin](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/angelsallfire) for being as wonderful as always from beginning to end of this fic. :)
> 
> Thank you, Mom!!! Love you!!
> 
> [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/vtforpedro)


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